


and now for something completely different

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cousin Ben Week, Cousincest, F/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Oneshots of Reylo:
1&5: Kylo waits for the girl to wake up. He's more patient than we're lead to believe.
2&3: Letters to Elise. You never forget your first.
4: College/Coffee shop.
6&9,10: The Army series, alternate paths.
7: It's not porn, but it starts out that way.
8: Zombie Apocalypse
11: (Rating change) Cousin Ben fic





	1. Chapter 1

She sleeps like the dead.

Well.

She's more unconscious than sleeping really. She doesn't seem to be waking up soon at any rate. Content to lay there like a log, while he squats before her. Like some prostrating acolyte ready to serve. He should be used to that, he supposes. Ugh, this position is uncomfortable. Kylo drops a knee to stretch out the cramped muscle in his thigh just as her eyelids flutter. Oh good, she's waking up. He brings his knee back up, grimacing at the pins and needles shooting up and down his leg. He holds his breath, reciting his speech mentally. _Where's the droid? You've seen the map. Tell me about it. Yadda, yadda, yadda._

Only, she doesn't wake up. She sighs softly and turns her head away.

Maybe he'd put too much pressure on her brain. Too much Force, he thinks with a smirk. He slays himself. But honestly, how long is he going to stand here and watch this girl nap during her interrogation?

He's not standing, his thighs scream at him. His ankles figure that even if he is, they're not sure they'd hold up very well. His feet tell him to fuck right the fuck off. He's not even going to get into what his toes are saying.

Maybe he should slap her or something. A light tap across her cheek. A tickle across her rib. A poke in her stomach. A caress up her leg.

What.

No, seriously.

What?

Where did that come from? She's pretty and all, but we do not fraternize with your prisoners. Even if he'd carried her all the way from the middle of the forest to his ship. Stormtroopers bugging him the whole time.

_You sure we can't take her, sir?_

_Yes._

_I mean, it’s pretty far._

_I'm fine._

_She looks heavy._

_She's not._

_Don't you need your hands free?_

_For what?_

_For, you know…_ There's a vague gesture of using the Force.

_Do you think I'm so weak that I need both my hands for that?_

_No, no. Hardly. But, please don't kill me, there's a battle going on? And, uh, I did say that we need more troops._

_We're leaving._

_Right, right. So…_

_What!_

_Er, your ship's this way._

Kylo had almost Force-choked the trooper. Almost. Except his hands were full of girl and his lightsaber is stupidly strapped to his side and digging painfully into his hip, because of the stupid girl that's still stupidly sleeping through her stupid interrogation.

“Wake up!” Kylo shouts.

She jerks in the restraints. Blinks her eyes open and looks down at him.

Finally.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbles and nods off again.

Calm. Find your center. Breathe in, breathe out. She's not doing this on purpose. No need to fly into a rage.

Oh, who is he kidding?

Kylo stands, ignoring the protests of his legs. _We're not ready!_ He spins around and marches out of the room. He's going to break something. He hasn't been to Section 16 in a while. Surely, they've repaired the consoles from last time.

“I'll be right back,” he tells the girl. “Don't get up.”

\---

Kylo returns to the interrogation room, sipping at hot cup of caf from the cafeteria. He nods at the Stormtrooper guarding the door. “She awake?”

“Uh, um,” the trooper visibly shakes. “No.”

He sips a little more at his drink, nodding again. “Good, good.”

“Sir?”

“We wouldn't want her coherent for what I'm about to do.” That comes out a bit too creepy than he'd intended. “I'm going to dive into her mind while she's sleeping,” he explains.

“Of course,” the trooper says unconvinced.

“Not for that, because that's too disgusting.” Kylo cringes. “I mean, it's not disgusting. I like sex. Done it lots. Fun stuff.”

“Of course,” the trooper repeats.

“I just don't force,” he can't help it, the smirk comes out without his permission. “Myself on girls. Women! I don't force myself on women. And she's a girl. Hardly worth my time.”

“Right.”

“Right,” he echoes. He contemplates wiping the entire conversation from the guard’s mind. It’d be easy, a quick wave of his hand, and poof, awkward talk gone. “Hold this,” he presses his cup against the trooper's chest.

“Sir?” The blaster drops to the floor as his hands grasp the cup.

“Need my hands,” Kylo says as he places his helmet on his head. “How do I look?”

“Intimidating,” the trooper's voice squeaks. As much as it could considering his own helmet.

Kylo grabs his cup and raises it in salute. “Wish me luck.” He pauses at the doorway. “And pick that blaster up.”

Hard to find good troopers these days, he muses as the guard scrabbles to the floor.

\---

He realizes the error of his ways a few minutes into his vigil. Not that error. Go Darkside. Praise Snoke. And all that jazz.

What he realizes is that you can't drink and have a helmet on at the same time. Needless to say, if the girl had been awake, she'd see him dribble hot caf all over his chest and floor.

A quick change and mop later, he's presentable once more. He wipes the guard's memory anyway because this entire day is not going right. At least someone will be starting fresh.

Can he wipe his own mind?

He'd ask Snoke about that if it didn't require an explanation of some sort. He imagines the conversation not going well.

_Hey, Master Snoke. Do you know if I could wipe my own memory?_

_What?_

_Because, you see, I'm having a terrible day and I'd really like to start over. Ah! No! The pain. Why, Master, why?_

Yeah, no. Not going to happen.

“So if you could just wake up and make my life easier, I'd really appreciate it,” he tells the sleeping girl.

Yes, he's been talking to her. She's a really good listener, strapped to the chair and unconscious notwithstanding. But he feels like he could open up to her. Get her to understand him better. They really met under terrible circumstances. If he'd still been Ben, maybe she wouldn't be so afraid of him.

People always say he's more like his father in the looks department. Big nose, big ears, but on the both of them, they'd looked dashing. Roguish, if you will. Ugh, his father. Why is he even thinking about him?

“He never understood me. My father, Han Solo.” He smiles at her imaginary interest. “Yes, that Han Solo. No, no, it's okay. You can be impressed. My mother's Princess Leia, by the way.”

_Oh my gosh, Kylo._

“I know, it's quite a lot to live up to. My grandfather is Darth Vader. I'm named after Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

_That doesn't make sense._

“It's the name he went by when he was watching over Luke, my uncle.”

_Oh. Tell me more. You're so fascinating, Kylo._

Kylo chuckles at a memory of one of his mother's stories. “My mother kissed him once. Before she knew he was her brother. On the lips. No tongue, thank the Maker.”

_Gross._

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My family's weird.” Kylo straightens. Caf's going right through him today. How many has he had? He glances at the mugs piling up to his right. Too many. “I'll, uh, be right back. Need to use the facilities.”

He orders the guard to clean up the mugs as he leaves.

\---

“So where was I?”

_You were telling me about yourself._

“Yes, of course,” he grins. “However, I don't know a thing about you.”

_I'm nothing, Kylo._

“No, you wouldn't be nothing if you were here.”

_True. But I'm so boring. Just a desert rat from Jakku. Nothing special._

“You're very special, I think,” he says. “I wouldn't have kidnapped you otherwise.” Dial down the creep, he tells himself. “I mean, I was looking for information but you intrigue me.”

_Really?_

“Yes, really. There's something about you that I can't ignore. And you're very pretty. Beautiful even.”

_Flatterer. I'm not. I'm dirty from crawling around in the sand and wearing grubby clothes._

“But your beauty shines through, despite that. If you're free later, maybe we could hang out. Have dinner or I could give you a tour of this base.”

_I’d love to, but I'm tied up at the moment._

“And you’re funny. All the qualities I look for in a woman.”

_I'd like that._

“Me too,” he says. “So if you'd wake up right now, we could finish this interrogation and go on our date.” He purses his lips. “You don't even have to tell me anything. Make it up, I don't care.”

The girl remains silent because the Force hates him as much as he hates himself.


	2. ...make your eyes catch fire the way they should

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of a new love. I should've known you'd leave me a burning wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago, in a country far, far away I had the biggest crush on this boy in my class. I think he was the first person I ever felt any sort of affection for. I never told him, I was too shy at the time. Sometimes I think about that boy and the things I could've said.
> 
> Years later, I made a devastating confession to another boy I liked. I wish he'd let me down easier or I'd kept my mouth shut. Ah well, life's full of lessons.
> 
> So, write what you know and what's in your heart. Also, life is one big Cure album. *shrug* I love that band. They've pulled me from my darkest moments. I hope you enjoy reading this story.

They meet on a warm summer day.

Rey clutches her mother's leg with one hand wrapped tight around a thigh. The other raises up to her face and works a thumb in her mouth, nail digging into her bottom lip. Bad habit, her mother's chided her over and over again, but she's nervous and it's the only thing that soothes her. Her thumb slides in and her heart beats slower. She hates meeting new people.

The neighbors, a man and woman, smile at them. “I'm Leia and this is Han, my husband,” the woman greets.

“Sabe,” her mother says. “And this is Rey,” her mother bends down and swings her up to cradle her against a hip. “My little sunshine.”

Leia coos appropriately and Han's mouth quirks up. “She's adorable. How old?”

“Sixth,” Rey answers around her thumb.

“I remember when Ben was that age,” Leia says wistfully. “He was quite a handful.”

“Yeah, still is,” Han grunts and turns to the house. “Ben!”

Rey jumps at the boom of his voice. Her mother pats her back and adjusts her weight. Pretty soon she'll be too big to carry, her mother had told her. Until then, Rey is content to be held for a little while longer.

“What?” A dark mop of hair answers from the second story window.

“Come meet the neighbors for Christ's sake,” growls Han.

“Han.” There's a warning in Leia's tone and her husband ducks his head sheepishly.

“Would it kill him to be polite,” he mumbles.

“He's fifteen, of course it would,” is her answer. “Teenagers,” Leia offers with a shrug.

Sabe nods with a wary smile.

The front door bangs open and a tall, gangly boy stomps out to the yard. Mess of black hair flopping at his gait, hands buried in his pockets. He stands behind his mother, already towering over her even at this age. His mouth is a scowl, jagged and sullen. Rey can't make out his eyes, hidden behind the long sweep of bangs. He tosses his head back. The action reveals nothing more of his face above his nose.

He's awkward looking. The tips of his ears poke out and his nose is prominent despite his hair as cover. Moles dot his face and neck. Bump on his throat bobbing at a swallow. His shoulders are hunched, as if he wants to be smaller, and his head is lowered, face to the ground.

“This is Sabe and Rey,” Leia introduces, dragging him out from behind her with a firm pull of her hand on his forearm. He stumbles forward, recovers with another toss of his head.

Rey still can't see his eyes. She thinks he's looking at them, but he could be looking elsewhere. Behind them at a point in the distance.

“Hello,” he says.

I'm going to marry him someday is the thought that creeps into her brain. Childish love blossoming in her heart. Her thumb pops out of her mouth. She wants to tell him this. Wants to reach out and take his hand. He'd know then, as soon as they touch. She's sure of it.

“Uh,” he eyes her glistening thumb, mouth kinked up in disgust. “No thanks.”

“Don't be rude,” Leia says.

“Mom,” he whines.

“It's fine,” Sabe soothes, taking Rey's hand back and tucking it between their bodies. “She sucks her thumb when she's nervous.”

Han watches the interaction with a smirk. Opens his mouth to say something but Leia and Ben turn to him in unison. “Don't.”

Han is a mixture of amused and insulted. “I was just going to say that there's nothing wrong with a spit-soaked handshake.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Sabe interrupts, feeling uncomfortable at the intense staredown between the three. “But we still have unpacking to do.”

“Of course,” Leia smiles. “Sorry we kept you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you. See you later.” She presses a kiss on Rey's cheek. “Say goodbye to the Solos.”

“Goodbye, Ben,” Rey keeps her gaze on him, twisting in her mother's grip as they head toward their house.

“Aw,” Leia's voice is sweet. “She likes you.”

His cheeks redden. “Great.”

“Let her down easy, kid,” Han jokes and claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” he grits, ducking the swat of Leia's hand at his head.

\---

Rey sees him again two days later.

She sits on the sidewalk in front of her house, doodling on the concrete with chalk. She's bored; there doesn't seem to be other children her age in this neighborhood. Her outside toys are still in a box somewhere in the garage. She's only able to find her chalk by sheer luck and determination.

The Solo's front door thuds open, she starts a little at the noise, and Ben stomps out. Hair unruly as ever, hands perpetually jammed into his pockets. He glances over at her, or at least she thinks he's looking her way, before crossing the driveway to the garage. He lifts the door with a grunt and steps inside.

Rey is drawing a house once he comes back out pushing a lawn mower. A tree could go here, she thinks, for a tire swing. She huffs at the blobs that are supposed to be birds but continues embellishing, adding clouds and a happy sun.

Ben's slipping on ear buds and starting the mower by the time she slides over and starts on a new picture. Who lives in this house? Pets, that's who. A scruffy dog and a friendly cat. Colorful fish in a bowl. Monkeys don't live in houses normally, but who cares? It's her house. Maybe unicorns live here too. And there's always room for Godzilla when he comes over to visit.

Her drawing becomes too ridiculous, so she stops and moves over. Who lives in this house with their unusual pets? A woman, of course. She's got long hair and, oops, one eye is bigger than the other. Well, that can't be helped even after rubbing at the mistake with her fingers. Rey adds long eyelashes to compensate.

“Ben,” his mother calls out.

He stops the mower and yanks out one ear bud. “What?”

“Ask Sabe if she needs her lawn mowed when you're done,” Leia requests. Although judging by her look, it's not a request.

He sighs when she goes back inside and Rey wants to laugh. She hates doing chores too, especially other people's chores. He resumes mowing and she goes back to her storied sketches.

She has to get this right, brows furrowing in concentration. The man, who lives with the woman and her unusual pets, is handsome and tall. Rey bends down, nose inches away from the concrete, sketching details into his face. His nose is not quite crooked, not quite straight. Lips full and soft, though probably less red than the color chalk she's currently using. Maybe he doesn't have eyes like normal people and that's why his hair covers them up. It's just as well, she's terrible at drawing eyes. Once she's finished, she leans back, appraising the portrait.

“Is your mom home?”

Rey spins around at the sound of Ben's voice, eyes wide in fear. Did he see? She's so embarrassed. She shifts to cover her drawing just as he tilts his head. “What's that?” He asks.

“No one!” She blurts, scratching her chalk repeatedly against the picture, obliterating his likeness from the sidewalk. Her heart pounds against her chest. “It's nothing,” she says, refusing to look at him. She starts a picture on another part of the sidewalk. Rainbows. Everyone likes rainbows. “Momma is inside. Cleaning.”

“All right,” he nods. His mouth quirks up slightly. “I'll have to try blue hair sometime. It looks good on me.”

Ben walks away before she could reply.

\---

In the fall, she starts school. She likes it, somewhat. The school is bigger with more children than she's used to, but she has a low tolerance for bullies. And they are everywhere. Making fun of her backpack. Pulling her hair. Ridiculing her clothes. A kick or a punch sends them running and crying. But her mother is constantly called into the office to discuss her behavior. Rey decides to be the better person and walk away, if only to extinguish the sadness out of her mother's eyes.

Rey likes walking to school with her mother the best. Sometimes Ben is behind them, following along before turning down a different street toward the high school. He stomps everywhere he goes as if he's angry at the inconvenience of walking anywhere. It’s not until he's ahead a few times, that Rey realizes that he's not stomping. His feet never make a sound. He has a measured stride, filled with purpose, even if his destination is nowhere important. Head held high, hands in his pockets, and dark hair flitting in the breeze.

\---

Rey makes two new friends: Finn, a boy in her class, and Poe, another boy two grades above her. Both are very silly and prone to trouble. They come over often to play, eat all her snacks, and generally make a nuisance of themselves. Like the time Poe had climbed the tree at the edge of the fence.

“Hey,” he yells down to Finn and Rey. “I can see into your neighbor’s house. Hello!” He waves excitedly at a window.

The window slams shut and Poe climbs down, annoyed. “What an unfriendly guy,” he mutters. “He's not allowed to be part of our club.”

But today will be different. It's her turn to choose the games and her mother had bought her a clubhouse that Mr. Solo had helped build. Rey had been his assistant, handing him tools and nails. She tells him of the adventures she'll have in her clubhouse and he nods and laments that he's too old to join. He grumbles at the extra odds and ends remaining, but throws them away with a shrug. “Should hold up, kid,” he musses her hair, familiar quirk on his lips. “Just don't play too hard inside. No telling what's going to come down.”

“This is very cool,” grins Finn, juggling three glasses and a sloshing pitcher of lemonade in his arms. “We should call ourselves something.”

“Three Musketeers?” Poe says around a mouthful of cookies.

“Too obvious.” Rey slaps his hand away from the plate she's carrying. “Stop eating,” she hisses. “We won't have any for our clubhouse.”

“I can't help it,” Poe sneaks another one. “Your mom makes great snacks.”

The three of them stand in front of her clubhouse, before she elbows Poe in the ribs. “Open the door, idiot. Finn and I have our hands full, you know.”

“Oh, right,” he swings the door wide and bows. “After you, Miss Rey.”

“Wipe your feet,” she says behind her. “I don't want you two tracking dirt in my house.”

“We should take off our shoes then,” Finn replies with a sage nod.

They toss their shoes out the little window and Rey can only roll her eyes. Boys are so stupid. It's a wonder they survive each day. “What should we play?” She asks, again slapping Poe's wandering hand away from the plate.

“Let's play house,” Poe says with a wide smile. He sidles up to her and slides an arm around her shoulders. “You can be my wife and Finn is our little boy.”

“I don't want to be your wife,” she says and pushes him off.

“Well then, Finn's your husband. And-”

“I don't want either of you to be my husband,” Rey stomps her foot. “I already have a husband.”

“Oh.”

Both boys look around as if another will pop up out of hiding. When no one comes, Poe shrugs. “Who's your husband?”

“Ben.”

“Ah. Wait, who's Ben?”

She's said too much she realizes. Finn and Poe are curious creatures. It wouldn't take long for them to spill a confession out of her. Probably one that involves a lot of needling questions and annoying pokes in her side.

“House is a stupid game,” Finn shakes his head. “I'm very confused. Who's husband am I?”

Rey frowns, “You can be Poe's for all I care. And anyway,” she sniffs, picking at imaginary lint off her sleeves. “It's my turn to pick.”

“So what's the game then,” Poe asks, his curiosity about Rey's husband forgotten.

“Scavenger,” she answers. “You two will hunt for treasure and bring it to me. If I like it, I will give you a snack for payment.”

“This game sounds horrible.”

“It will keep you from eating all our food.” Rey shoos them out. “Now go, find me treasure.”

\---

The Solos hold a celebration for Ben's upcoming graduation from school. They invite everyone they've ever known it seems, crowds at nearly every corner of their house, chatting and laughing.

Rey's never been to a party this large before. All these people make her nervous, but her mother is with her, holding tightly to the hand that wants to creep a thumb in her mouth. It's been so long since she's done that, she's not sure if she remembers how it felt. It’d been soothing not so long ago.

They mingle between groups, but Rey is too distracted searching for Ben to pay attention to conversation. She sees his broad back behind Leia and when he turns slightly, she gasps. His hair doesn't cover his face. His eyes are bright from the smile curving his lips. But they're so normal and brown.

It’s not as if she'd expected lasers to come out of his eyes… Well, maybe a little.

Before she knows it, Rey pulls her mother toward him. Sabe laughs at her enthusiasm to see him, giving Leia a knowing smirk.

“Congratulations, Ben,” Sabe grins, shaking his hand. “Your parents must be proud.”

He strokes a hand through his hair and nervously laughs. “I haven't graduated yet.”

“Still,” she presses. “I hear you have top honors in school, in the running for valedictorian.”

“I doubt it. My parents have silver tongues and I unfortunately didn't inherit that gift. I’m not very good with speeches or talking.”

Sabe hums, thinking the opposite, but nods. “Oh! Rey made you card. She’s worked very hard on it.”

Ben looks down at Rey expectantly, brown eyes warm and affectionate.

“I-I left it in my clubhouse,” she stammers.

“It's fine,” he says with a bit of disappointment. “You can give it to me tomorrow.”

“No!”

The entire house quiets at her outburst before resuming the background chatter.

“I mean, it's finished,” Rey fidgets at his stare. “I could show you, if you come.”

“Rey,” Sabe warns. “He can't leave his party.”

Ben laughs, deep and amused. “It's okay. I've been wanting to get out for a bit.” He winks at her. “Too many people.”

Rey grins wide at their shared anxiety.

\---

He's not going to fit in there. The door barely reaches his chest. Rey is waiting inside though and he can hear puttering around making room for him.

“It's very nice,” Ben calls out, delaying the inevitable. “Dad help build it?” He's surprised it's held up this long.

“Uh huh.” She peers out the little door. “Come in, come in.”

“Rey,” he starts, putting as much command in his tone as possible. “I'm not going to fit.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won't.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

It's useless arguing with an eight year old. Not because they're right, but because they're relentless.

Ben looks up to the sky and pleads for a lightning bolt to strike him. Anything but the humiliation of being inside this clubhouse. Rey is not to be deterred, grabbing his hand and pulling him in. He remembers to duck a second too late and bumps his head at the top of the door jamb.

“Ow, shit!” He clamps his mouth shut to prevent more curses from coming out.

Rey just laughs as she tugs and he crawls on hands and knees.

“Okay, okay,” he pants. “Let go.”

He flops on his rear and slides his legs inside. His feet stick out the door. Leaning back on his elbows, he turns to look at her. Rey sits primly at the table centered in the house, hands folded on her lap. “See, you fit,” she says with a sniff.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, perfect.”

Ben scoots back further inside, twisting around to face the table. He takes the tiny chair meant for him and chucks it out the door. An awkward crossing of his legs reveals that it's going to be a pain to unfold them later. He clears his throat, “So where's the card you made?”

“In here,” she says, standing and moving to the little cupboards. “I had to hide it from Poe. He's so nosy.”

“Is that the kid who peeked in my window?”

“Yes,” she returns to her chair, clutching a folded construction paper. “I told him not to do it.” That's not entirely true, but she didn't encourage him either. “Here,” Rey sticks her hand out and he takes the card. “I hope you like it.”

Ben traces his picture on the front with a finger. She had put so many details that no one would ever believe it isn't him. “You're very good at drawing. Looks just like me.”

Rey puffs up at his praise. “Thank you.”

“Though I can't help but think you see me as an eyeless monster with shaggy hair.”

She giggles behind her hand. “Open it.”

“Of course.” _I love you._ “Oh. Um.”

He looks at her, leaning forward, hazel eyes shining bright with her love for him. It hurts a little to know that her life will have moments of sadness. She's so young and happy. She deserves to be that way forever. He doesn't want to break her heart.

“Rey,” he sets the card down carefully, desperately trying to find the right words. _Let her down easy, kid._ “Rey, thank you for this gift. I mean it,” he places a hand on top of hers when her face frowns in confusion. “But I don't love you in that way. I'm sorry.”

“Oh.” She sags at the weight of his apology.

“I hope you understand someday.” Empty words meant to seal her cracking heart.

“Yes,” she nods.

And then, like a bolt, Rey runs out of the house, tears trailing her cheeks and sobs spilling out of her mouth.

Ben hangs his head in shame.

\---

She doesn't look at him the same after that terrible day. Ben could understand scorn or hatred in her eyes. Anything but the blank expression on her face when she sees him. At least when he tries to talk to her, she responds.

“Your mom says you don't draw anymore,” he says when he finds her on the sidewalk in front of their houses, playing with trucks and cars.

“Mmhmm,” she smashes a car into another. “I don't like it very much.”

He sits next to her and pushes a truck toward her. “You would've been a great artist. I wish I had half your talent.”

“That's nice.” She shoves the truck away.

“I still have your card,” he confesses. “I'll take it with me when I go to university in the fall.”

Rey looks at him and for a tiny, brief moment he sees her love for him flicker back to life. It's shuttered away just as quickly. “Can I have it back?”

“Why?”

“I want to destroy it.” Her fingers curl around a car, knuckles whitening.

“I can't give it back, if that's what you're going to do.”

“It's mine.”

“You gave it to me.”

“I don't want you to have it anymore.” She stands, breathing heavy in anger. “It's mine! Give it back!”

“No.”

“I hate you!”

Perhaps, in hindsight, he shouldn't have approached her. He expects a slap or a fist to come flying at his face. The car in her tight hold marking his cheek. Then, she deflates, crumpling back to the ground and continues trashing her toys.

This heartache will ease for her. Tomorrow. Next week. Next month. And in the years that follow. Maybe for him as well.

Ben stands, shoves his hands into his pockets, and walks away.

In the smallest part of his heart he's reserved for her, he imagines she watches him like she used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I could've ended this happy. I don't believe it's meant to be that way.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	3. as fast as i pick it up, it runs away through my clutching hands...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, to see your eyes just once. I would burn at your gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 because I don't like sad stories.

Ben has been staring at this picture too long, instead of packing. Winter break starts in a few days and he should be readying his suitcase for his flight home. Instead, he takes out her drawing and regrets.

_I love you._

No other words have ever been so devastating to read. He'd known for a long time, but he'd foolishly thought that she'd never say anything. Eventually she'd find someone else worthy of her heart. What is young love but a brief, small thing?

After all, he's fallen for many a girl. He's come out of it, better and wiser.

He sighs. He should've allowed her to destroy it. It would have lessened her pain, but he couldn't. Not when he'd found out she'd torn up everything she'd ever drawn. Her mother had been distraught and she’d come to him in the hopes that he'd talk to her. Rekindle that love she had for pictures and art.

It didn't go very well and she'd avoided him after, as if she'd known what he was trying to do. She'd associated him with her drawing, two things she'd loved the most. And now, she hates them both.

How many pictures are gone now? Several? A few? Who knows. Only one remains and he'll treasure it. Always.

\---

Ben should've thought of this sooner.

Out shopping for Christmas presents for his parents, he'd happened upon a bookstore. It had a section on art and its history. So many books had been written on various painters and photographers. How to draw and paint, proper shading techniques, the right utensils to use on sculpting.

“Excuse me,” he flags an assistant's attention. “I'm looking for a gift for a girl. She likes to draw and I was wondering which one is the best.”

“Oh, we have da Vinci, of course. He's everyone's favorite.” She picks up a large, thick book from a shelf. “This one has his biography and pictures of most of his sketches.”

“Any on portraiture?” He frowns. “Landscapes? Still life? She used to draw everything.”

“Used to?” The assistant quizzes.

“Well, maybe I'm exaggerating on that she likes to draw.”

“Oh?”

“She hates it,” he mutters, shaking his head. This is a mistake. He shouldn’t try at all. No doubt she'd scorn anything he'd give her. “Me too.”

“You hate drawing or she hates you?”

“Me, she hates me.”

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “And you’re trying to get back in her good graces?”

“Yes, exactly, though only for drawing. She was very good.”

“That's so romantic.”

Ben narrows his eyes. “It's not what you think.”

“Of course.”

“She's young…”

“Forbidden romance? Her parents don't approve?” Her grin is too wide. “There's nothing wrong with a slight age difference.”

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head. The idea he had derails spectacularly. “Eight. She's eight years old,” he amends when the woman's brows go up. “She had a crush on me and I've broken her heart. But now she hates me and drawing. I only want her to get back to art. Not me.”

“I think she wouldn't want anything you give her then.”

“I thought so,” he says, relieved that the woman finally understands. Wait. “So it's hopeless?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I wouldn't give it to her directly.” She sets the book back in place and turns to him. “Maybe a present from her mother or a friend with instructions to guide her back to drawing. You can't force it.”

“I see.”

“Start slow,” she insists. “I assume she doesn't have any more paper or pencils.”

“I could get her some.”

“No, a friend.”

“Right, yes, a friend.”

“This one,” she slips another book out and places it in his hands. “Has some basic instructions on how to sketch. Different techniques on painting, sculpting. Beginner’s guide, really. But it does have a list of useful tools. The type of paper and pencils…”

“Thank you,” he'd hug the woman if she isn't a stranger. He heads toward the cashier.

“I would tell her to avoid chapter twenty until she's much older,” she warns with a smirk.

“Why's that?”

“Anatomy.”

His face couldn't get any redder.

\---

He might have overdone it.

If Ben had known creating art would be expensive, he'd have toned it down a notch. Two hundred dollars is significantly more than he'd spent on his mother. But it's worth it to see Rey's face, even if it's told to him second-hand.

The taxi pulls up to his house and Ben steps out, shivering a little at the crisp air. After adjusting his scarf, he pays his fare, grabs his suitcase and tucks Rey's present under his arm.

He looks over at her house and frowns. No lights. Anywhere. Not even the porch light is on. Odd. Maybe they're out, visiting friends.

A sense of dread slides up his spine and it takes much of his self-control not to run toward his front door. Snow starts to fall just as he gets inside. “I'm home,” he calls out. “Mom?”

“Goodness, Ben,” his mother steps out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “You're here early. We would have picked you up if you'd told us.”

“Yes, well…” He sets his bag down and leans down to receive her hug, pressing a kiss at the top of her head. “I miss being home.”

“What's this?” Leia asks, sliding his gift out from under his arm. She reads the tag and her face falls. “Oh, Ben.”

“Are they here?” His stomach is in knots as he walks further inside. “Sabe,” he swallows hard. “And Rey. I noticed their house looks strangely empty. I thought maybe, they were visiting you.”

“Ben.”

He doesn't want to know.

“They moved, a few months ago.” Leia cups his face, thumb stroking his cheek. “I'm sorry. I meant to tell you, but it was so sudden. Sabe's father had fallen ill…”

His eyes slide shut.

Her voice is drowned out by the sound of heart shattering.

\---

There's laughter coming from the neighbor’s house.

Correction, he grits his teeth, empty house next door. He looks over the fence and sees two boys playing near the clubhouse.

“What are you doing here?”

They freeze, eyes wide in awe as he scales the fence and stalks toward them.

“No one lives here anymore,” he says. “Are you defacing property?” He stands before them, drawn up to his full height. “Well?”

“She said we could play in her clubhouse, sir,” one stutters out. “Until someone new comes.”

“Who?”

“Rey.”

At the sound of her name, he crouches down to appear less imposing. “You're her friends, I assume. Poe and…” He snaps his fingers as if trying to recall the name. She'd only told him one, but they don't need to know that.

“Finn,” the other boy answers. “Who are you?”

“Ben.”

“Ah, her husband,” Poe says, smacking Finn on the chest. “It's no wonder she didn't like either of us. He's much older and taller.”

“I'm not...” Ben shakes his head, smiling slightly. “It doesn’t matter. Do you talk to her?”

“Sometimes,” Finn shrugs.

“Good, very good,” he nods. “And how is she?”

“Don't you know?” Poe interrupts.

Oh gods, had something happened to her? He studies their faces. They don't seem concerned about her, so he's puzzled by the question. He purses his lips. “Why would I know?”

“You’re her husband.”

Ben barks out a laugh. “Right, her husband.” He shrugs, “We had a bad falling out, you see, and we don't talk anymore.”

“Oh,” Poe draws out the sound. “Divorce,” he whispers in Finn's ear.

“Sorry to hear that,” Finn offers him a sad smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You're better off without her. She's a little bossy.”

“It can't be her fault,” Poe says, pointing an accusatory finger at Ben. “Maybe he's the jerk.”

The conversation is getting weird and off track. “Back to Rey,” Ben says. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

“I don't know,” Poe replies, suddenly leery of her ex-husband. “Depends on the favor.”

“It's nothing bad,” Ben says. “You have her address? Where she lives now?”

The boys nod.

“I want to give her a Christmas present, but after our divorce,” he adopts a regretful expression. Not too difficult, all things considered. “Suffice it to say, she won't accept it.”

“I could give you her address,” Finn says, always helpful. “I memorized it.”

“No, she'd only return my gift, but thank you,” Ben smiles. “Maybe, if I give the present to you and you could say that it's from the both of you?”

“I see,” Poe nods in understanding. “Then she won't return the present.”

“Yes, exactly.” He stands and dusts off his pants. “Wait here.”

He jogs toward his house, checking briefly to make sure they're staying, and practically jumps over the fence in his eagerness to return. He comes back, so glad to see that they're still there, that his face breaks out into a large grin.

“That's a huge box,” Finn comments. “What's in it?”

Poe takes it from Ben's hands and holds it against his ear, “’S’not ticking.” He shakes it vigorously. “Something's rattling in there.”

Ben stills the box, “Please don't do that. Inside are drawing supplies and a book.”

“Are you going to win her back?” Finn's eyes are wide and hopeful. “My dad says girls like to be romanced.”

Not this again.

“I'm afraid it's too late for us,” he sighs dramatically. “What we had was special and fleeting.” One-sided and non-existent now, he thinks to himself. Fishing a few bills from his wallet, he holds out the money for them to take. “For stamps and whatever else you want to buy.”

“Thanks, Ben,” Poe grabs the money carefully. “We’ll mail it right away. Come on, Finn, the post office will be closed soon.”

He runs off and Finn follows, after giving Ben a small wave.

He'll never know her reaction. Never see her again. But at least, it's a start in the right direction.

\---

“If I didn't know any better, I’d say your girlfriend is avoiding me.”

“What?”

Ben laughs at the annoyed face of his friend, who's currently checking the time on his phone. Again.

“I'm saying,” he smirks. “That she's not coming.”

“Damn,” Hux slams the phone down on the table. Checks it once more, before leaning back. “I'm sorry about that. She's usually punctual.”

“Except when it comes to meeting your best friend apparently.” He sighs. “This is the third time in a row.”

“It's not about you, Ben,” Hux grins. “You selfish prick.”

“Or maybe you've made her up,” he jokes.

“Made her--you've seen her picture.”

“Easily fabricated.”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“She's too pretty for you,” he continues, recalling her face in the few photographs he's seen.

“Too pretty? What?” Hux crosses his arms. “And I've dated hags before?”

“You have. I've met them.”

“Bazine was not a hag,” Hux defends.

“On the outside, no.”

“You would know.”

“I would,” Ben admits with a frown.

“And anyway, who are you to talk, hmm?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I'm surprised there isn't a woman clinging to you now. Where's your flavor of the week?”

“I'm between flavors,” he smirks. “My mother hounds me day and night to give her grandchildren and if I can't please her, then I shouldn't bother for any other woman.”

“Of course,” Hux replies. His gaze drifts to his phone before looking back at his friend. “She's not made up or avoiding you. George is-”

Ben chuckles. “The woman with the man's name.”

“I told you, it's a pseudonym.”

“You know her real name then?”

“Of course I do,” Hux says.

“And you still won't tell me. Why?”

“I want to keep it to myself,” Hux's face softens. “She's special and mine.”

“Careful, Hux, I think you're close to admitting some sort feeling.”

His friend leans forward, expression earnest. “I do love her, Ben,” he digs into his inner coat pocket and takes out a black, velvet box. “It's been six months,” he says as if the length of time shocks him. “I wanted to ask her tonight, with you here.” He shakes his head. “I don't know why. No doubt, you'd ridicule the moment.”

“I wouldn't,” he says, offended.

“But you’re my best friend and I want your approval for some stupid reason.”

“You have it.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” Ben grins. “You're free to propose to your imaginary girlfriend.”

“Idiot.”

Hux's phone rings and the man nearly pounces on it in his rush to answer. “Hello? Yes, we're still here,” he looks at Ben and grins. “Oh… No, no, it's all right… A crack, you say? Right down its…” Hux snickers. “No, I'm not laughing… You have to admit it's a little funny… I understand… Yes, I'll see you later. Good night. I luh-" Hux stares at his phone intently, before setting it down. “She hung up.”

“An emergency?” Ben asks, trying to distract his friend.

“Yes,” he runs a hand through his hair. “Her replica of David developed a crack in his rear.”

“That's terrible,” Ben manages to get out before bursting into laughter.

“It's not funny,” Hux says, lips twisting from suppressing his own mirth. “Her weld didn't hold up and if she doesn't fix it, his ass will blow wide open.”

Both men erupt into loud guffaws, startling the other guests in the restaurant.

\---

“Are you sure I look all right?”

“For the last time, you’re gorgeous.”

“I just want to look good for your friend,” George says, fixing an errant hair out of her face. “I should've gotten a manicure. My nails are gross.” She holds her hands up for his inspection, he kisses them instead.

“He won't notice your broken, disgusting fingernails,” Hux replies and she smacks him playfully on the arm. “He'll see a beautiful woman and fall instantly in love with you.”

“I doubt it,” she mutters.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” she smiles as she tucks a hand into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we go?”

\---

Ben strides over to his door at the sound of a knock, giving his apartment one quick sweep before answering. “Glad you could make it,” he says, gesturing for his two guests to come inside.

“You need to move,” Hux starts, shrugging out of his coat. “Five flights of stairs is hardly practical for heels.”

“Why, Hux,” he chuckles as he takes his friend’s coat. “I didn't know you dressed in drag. The things you learn about your friends.”

The giggle coming from his companion is achingly familiar and Ben stops to look at her, heart beating fast. Where had he heard that sound before? “Uh, you must be George,” he coughs to hide his momentary lapse, stepping behind her to help remove her jacket.

“Thank you,” she says, moving away from him quickly. “That's me. George.” The small curtsy she gives him is adorable.

Ben tosses the coats into a nearby closet, distracted by the puzzling woman with a man's name and familiar laugh.

“Hey,” Hux says. “That coat is expensive. At least hang it up.”

“I'm out of hangers.” Ben stands in front of her, studying her face.

“I just saw four in there.”

“Drink?” He asks, not making a move to do anything.

“Yes, please,” George answers and shies away from his gaze.

“Could I speak to you a moment?” Hux interrupts, dragging Ben toward his bedroom.

“In the fridge over there,” Ben calls out, gesturing to his kitchen. “Help yourself.”

Once they're alone, Hux rounds on Ben. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He jerks out of his friend’s grasp and straightens his shirt. “Nothing. I'm sorry. I just thought…”

“You thought what?” Hux fumes. “You were practically salivating over my fiancé.”

“Fiancé?”

“I asked her two days ago. She said yes,” Hux replies. “Now, congratulate me.”

“Congratulations,” he says dumbly. “Look, I wasn’t drooling over your fiancé. I feel like I've met her before. Somewhere.” His shoulders droop. “Never mind. I apologize, Hux. I am happy for you.”

“All right, apology accepted.” Hux sighs. “Please be your normal, charming self out there. But not too much.”

Ben laughs, “Afraid she'll like me better and run away with me?”

“Unlikely,” he says with a grin. “You'll only break her heart like all the other women left in your destructive wake.”

The truth cut deeply, but Ben hides it with another laugh.

\---

They return to the living room to find George sitting on the couch, sipping at glass of water.

“I apologize for all that,” Ben begins. “The stairs, the coats, and the…,” he gestures between them. “Awkward staring. I promise it won't happen again. Except for the stairs.” He shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I can't do anything about that.”

“It's okay, no harm done,” she smiles. “And I took my shoes off after the second flight.” She stands and smoothes down her skirt. “Is there a bathroom? I need to powder my nose.”

“Yes, in the bedroom,” he points in its direction. “The light switch is on your left, outside the doorway.”

“Thanks.”

\---

George fumbles for the switch, hand slapping blindly at the wall, before clicking on the light. “What a stupid place to put that,” she says in irritation. She steps inside the bathroom and closes the door.

“Whoa,” she remarks at the floor to ceiling mirrors on the closets. She turns to the large mirror above the sink and back to the closets, greeted by an infinite reflection of herself.

George shivers.

After using the toilet, she washes her hands, avoiding eye contact with the mirror. Dripping water, she looks around for a towel and sees none. “They've got to be in here,” she tells the mirrored closets.

She slides one open with her elbow and groans. Suits and shirts hang above and pants on the lower rack. Ben's shoes are lined neatly below. Sliding the door back closed, she opens another.

“Ha!” She exclaims at the white, fluffy towels folded on the shelves. Taking one, she almost walks away, when she sees something poking out from between another towel.

Curiosity has her hand pulling out the object, only to almost drop it when she recognizes it. It hasn't faded at all, lovingly sealed up in a plastic sheath.

_It's mine! Give it back!_

He's kept it, all this time.

_I'll take it with me when I go to university in the fall._

George blinks back tears. They fall anyway.

_I don't want you to have it anymore._

Oh, but she did. A small part of that little girl from long ago had been so happy that he'd refused to return her gift.

_But I don't love you in that way. I'm sorry._

She remembers that pain, but it's dulled over the years. She will love him always, she thinks. Years and distance couldn't erase what she'd felt for him. You never forget your first.

George replaces the portrait of Ben back in its hiding spot, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes. She stares at her reflection.

Rey looks back and smiles.

\---

“Are you all right?”

Rey jumps at the knock on the door, clutching her chest. “Yeah, I'm fine,” she says. “I, uh, I couldn't find any towels.” She smacks her forehead. Why don't you just say I found the picture, she chastises herself. Might as well confess that your Rey while you're at it.

“They’re in the closet,” Ben says. “At the end.”

“I know.” She checks to make sure that it doesn't look like anyone's rifled through his things before opening the door to Ben looming over her. “Gah!” Her poor heart can't take much more. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he smiles, sounding decidedly not.

“Excuse me,” she ducks under his arm.

He watches her walk away for a moment before stepping inside the bathroom, closing the door behind him firmly.

\---

“Hux tells me you’re an artist.”

“Struggling,” Rey swallows a large gulp of wine. How many has she had? And why is this glass empty? She snags her fiancé's drink to Ben's amusement. “I don't make very much money.”

“She's so modest,” Hux says, patting her hand. “She started a commission making replicas for a very rich patron.”

“They're not replicas,” she pouts. “I'm, I'm reimagining the classics. David. Starry Night.” The glass swirls, sloshing wine all over the table, as she continues. “There'll be, hic, excuse me, four! No, five. I don't know. A lot of pieces in different mediums.”

“I think you've had enough, my dear,” Hux frowns, taking the glass away.

“Yes,” she agrees with a hiss. A good idea because she'd almost told him everything. A few times. Even now, the confession wants to spill from her lips. And that would be very, very bad. Her head plops onto her hand, smooshing her cheek against an eye. “I'm sooo sorry, hic! I'm not much of a drinker. What about you, Ben?”

Ben. Ben. Ben. His name is musical like the tolling of a large bell. It matches the pounding between her ears.

“Me?” He drains his drink in one. “I'm an excellent drinker.”

“No, no, I meant… What did I mean?” _Rey. I'm your Rey. Remember?_ “I don't feel so good.” Words or vomit are going to come out. She almost prefers vomit.

“Time to get you home,” someone says. He sounds oddly like her fiancé.

She's hoisted off her chair by an arm wrapped around her waist. Another arm slides smoothly behind her knees. Her vision shifts dangerously as she's lifted up and she shuts her eyes tight. Grits her teeth. _Please, please, don't throw up._ “Ben?”

He hums in acknowledgement, his chest rumbling against her ear. How did he get so close? Where's Hux?

There he is. But he's so far away. The room wobbles and sways as she tries to focus on her fiancé. She swallows the bile threatening to come up.

“I, I want to tell you something.” _No, don't, just throw up. Please don't say anything._ Her stomach churns.

“What is it?”

“Put me down.”

“What?”

“I'm going to throw…”

Falling, she's falling. But then her feet stumble onto the floor and she runs, hand over her mouth, toward his bathroom.

“Your fiancée is quite lovely, Hux,” Ben says, wincing at the slam of the bathroom door.

“Shut up,” Hux bites out. “She must have not eaten anything today. This is your fault,” he points accusingly.

“My fault? How's that possible?”

“She was nervous meeting you.” His voice becomes high-pitched in a mockery of hers, “'How about this dress? Shoes? Hair up or down?'”

“I could care less how she was dressed or how she looks.”

“That's what I said,” he huffs. “And now, she's heaving in your toilet from the cheap swill you've plied her with.”

“Fuck you,” Ben says. “If you don't care about what's happening to your fiancée, I shudder to speculate on the future of your marriage.”

“I do care,” Hux's voice is small. “I guess, perhaps, I was nervous as well. I wanted you to like her. She's the one, you know?”

He doesn't know, doomed to be alone for the rest of his days, but he nods anyway.

“Oh god, I feel terrible,” Rey remarks as she slumps against a wall.

Hux is quickly upon her, though he doesn't come near. His face twists in disdain at her inebriated state. “Let's go home.”

Ben grabs their coats from the closet, handing Hux his and draping hers over her shoulders. “I'm sorry again for everything,” he huffs out a laugh. “I seem to be always apologizing to you. Not a good start to our friendship.”

“It's okay,” she spins around to face him.

It's an innocent gesture, his hands coming up to grip her waist and steady her, but his traitorous fingers have other ideas. They pull her close, flush against him. She smells like spring flowers and the acrid tang of paint. Her feet tip up and her arms glide over his shoulders as she accepts his embrace.

He can feel her lips on his cheek, a dry touch to his skin. And then…

“I forgive you,” she whispers into the shell of his ear.

Ben doesn't know how long he stood there, after they've left, numbly stroking his cheek. Her lips had seared into his skin like a brand. Her gaze had lingered on him, even as Hux escorts her, his expression a mix of perplexion and possession, toward the door.

He knows that look, though it's been so long since he's seen it. It's still as bright and hopeful as he remembers.

“Rey.”

\---

Everything's smudging, no matter what Rey does to the prevent it, ruining the rough sketch she's started. Her arms and face are coated in chalk and charcoal. She rips the paper from the pad, balling it angrily, and tosses it toward the garbage. It bounces off the growing pile to land on the floor.

“I knew an artist once.”

The deep voice startles her into stroking a dark line across the fresh page.

“Shit!” Rey glances over her shoulder and mutters another curse. She tears off the page and starts again, as if his presence didn't affect her. Her hands shake, belying her effort. “Ben, what're you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he replies. “Again.”

“Oh, uh, I don't really have time for visitors,” she says airily. “I need to finish this sketch, before, ah, before Hux gets here.” There, that should keep him away.

“Hux doesn't come here.”

She pauses, hearing him step closer. Measured stride with purpose, she notes grimly.

“I think you know that.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, he told me this himself.” He's behind her now. She can feel the heat of his body on her back. “Look at me.”

She takes her time, setting the chalk on the easel and smoothing down the curling ends of the paper. He sighs loud and long. Her feet shuffle around and around, until his chest is in her view.

Ben tips her chin up with a finger, his warm, brown eyes searching hers. “It is you,” he says, whisper soft. “Rey.”

He crushes her in a fierce hug with no chance to respond. His chin digs into her collarbone and his arms pin hers against her sides. She taps him awkwardly on the back. “Can't breathe,” she wheezes.

His arms tighten for a moment before he releases her, held at arm’s length. She's in another hug and she has to roll her eyes at the elation he's expressing. “Okay, all right,” Rey says, patting his back. “It's me. Rey.”

“I thought I'd never see you again.” Ben pushes her back, still within his grasp. “You moved away.”

“I couldn't help that,” she snips.

“And you're drawing. Making art.” His eyes roam around her studio in awe. “Paintings. Sculpture. I don't know what that is, but I like it.”

“It's a concept of deconstruction,” she frowns. “Or maybe it's a deconstruction of concept. I was really tired when I made it.”

“Huh,” he tilts his head. “We should talk,” he says, focusing back on her. “Let's go to lunch. Are you hungry?”

“What?”

He steps away from her and pulls a nearby stool to sit on. “I'll wait until you're finished.”

“No, I, no,” she stomps her foot.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“What?” She needs to get away from him. Her brain is malfunctioning, unable to process complete thoughts or sentences. “That's not why. It's been thirteen years, Ben. How petty do you think I am?”

“I don't know,” he shrugs. “I ask you to lunch so we could catch up and you refuse. What else am I supposed to think?”

“I just need to finish this sketch.”

“And I told you I'd wait.”

“I can't if you’re here,” she sniffs. “You're distracting.”

“Oh…” He looks uncomfortable, shifting uneasily in his seat.

He must think that she still… She wants to laugh. Maybe cry too. “No! Not that distracting. I mean, gah!” She takes a long, suffering breath. “I'm a mess. I can't go out like this.”

“Ah,” Ben nods with a smile. “I don't mind.”

“I mind! My hair is everywhere. I'm covered in chalk.”

“You're beautiful.”

The way he said those words makes her heart beat in double-time. “Don't say that.”

“I mean it, Rey.” He stands and walks over to her. “I want us to be friends. You're going to marry my best friend. We should at least be cordial to each other.”

Of course. Why would he want anything else? And why did a small part of her hope for something else? She's such a idiot. Even after all this time, she's wishing for more from him.

“What gave me away?” Maybe next time she'd learn.

“Hmm?”

She braves glancing up at him. “How did you know it was me?”

Ben tucks a stray hair behind her ear and smiles. “You still look at me the same.”

Rey wraps her arms around him and cries.

\---

They're not doing anything wrong.

They meet for lunch and talk. That's all. She tells Ben of the school she went to, how she met Hux and all the other useless things he asks about. Eager to learn the years he's missed.

He reveals that his father died three years ago and she allows the tears to fall for the man she remembered. Han had been nice to her. His mother lives in the same house, alone, with her son grown up and away. He visits and calls her every chance he gets. Which isn't a lot, Ben confesses, but his mother's satisfied. Leia wants him to marry and have lots of babies.

“Or one,” Ben says, ruffling his hair. “I can never tell with her. Sometimes she claims that she wants to be surrounded by grandchildren. And other times, she insists just one will do to coo over and spoil.”

See, nothing is happening. No clandestine trysts in his apartment. No sordid romps in some secluded place, out of the way of prying eyes. No, not even declarations of love sealed with a knee-weakening kiss.

Just lunch and conversation. Not every day either. Ben requests to see her every day, asks as soon as they're finished, but she begs off, claiming that she needed to work on her commission. And even if he smiles and understands, she can tell that he's disappointed.

So why did she feel guilty for keeping their lunch dates a secret?

“You're still friends with them?” Ben asks. “Poe and, and…”

“Finn,” Rey supplies. “Yes, we still talk and write. Though not very often. They're coming to visit in a few weeks.” Strange, that he remembers her childhood friends. She doesn't recall speaking about them to him once when she was younger. She'd hardly talked to him at all, except for that day.

“To see your grand unveiling?”

“Mmhmm,” she nods. “I'm almost finished.”

“You have one left?”

“Yes,” she sighs. “I'm afraid I'll have to ask for more time.”

“Oh?”

“I don't know what to do,” she admits. “I was thinking a photograph or maybe another painting.”

“You'll think of something.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she snorts. “I'm a genius.”

“You are,” Ben declares, reaching over to take her hand and gliding his thumb across her knuckles.

“It's getting late,” she murmurs, sliding her hand out from his. She ducks her hand underneath the table, willing the burn of his touch away. “You need to get back to work.”

“Is it?” He check his phone and his brows rise at the time. “I'll take you back to your studio.”

“No, I'm fine,” Rey smiles. “I might walk around a bit.”

Ben frowns, not liking this, but sighs. “All right, I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Um, no, I need to work on my commission.”

“This weekend?”

“I'm having dinner with Hux this weekend.”

His eyes widen as if he'd suddenly remembered she's engaged. “Right, of course,” he says and then his face lights up. “We should go out.” At her surprised expression, he adds, “The three of us.”

“That's…” Terrible. Awful. A severely bad idea. “That would be nice.”

He grins.

\---

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Hux says from the bathroom. “Ben called me this afternoon.”

Rey stops reading her book, setting it down on her lap. Her breath catches in her throat.

“Did you hear me?” He peers out from the door.

“Uh yeah,” she nods quickly. “Wha-how is he?”

“He's all right,” he returns to brushing his teeth. “He asked about you.”

So Ben is keeping their get togethers a secret as well. Why did that make her breathe a sigh of relief?

“That's nice,” she replies as she tries to read her book. It's no use, the words on the page aren't making sense and she's nervous and terrified. Of what, she's not sure. They hadn't done anything wrong.

Hux wouldn't be angry about lunch dates with his best friend. That she knows from years ago. And had loved him with all her little heart. She's also been keeping that to herself as well.

Oh god, what is she doing? She should tell Hux everything. He'd understand.

“Is that all right?” Hux asks as he slides into their bed.

“I'm sorry," Rey says, turning a page. "I wasn't paying attention."

“He wanted us to go out to dinner this weekend, but I told him we couldn't.”

“We can't?”

“Yes, I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you.” He pecks her on the cheek, runs his mouth down her throat. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Put that book away.” Hux tugs it out of her hands and sets it on the nightstand.

“I'm still reading,” she whines.

“I miss you,” he says, voice rough with lust. He drags his hands down her shoulders, taking the straps of her nightgown with them.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he grins, descending upon her.

\---

It starts out innocently enough.

They meet for lunch. They talk. Laugh.

But somewhere in between all that, her smiles turn sultry and her eyes smolder. He leans forward to whisper in her ear and she giggles at his teeth nibbling at her lobe. His lips follow the line of her jaw.

They tumble into bed. Hers. His. Did she have one in her studio? Does it matter? They're a tangled mess of limbs and tongues, skin slick with sweat. She gasps at his touch and he groans at the wetness he discovers.

And then he slides in, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch of him. Her head tosses on the pillow, mouth open in a wanton 'O'. He buries his face in her neck, sucking a possessive mark on her soft skin. She's begging for more and he can do nothing but comply.

_Oh, Ben._

He jolts awake, aching and hard, heart about to burst from his chest.

\---

He shouldn't see her anymore.

He never meant for this to happen.

Rey had always been a little girl in his head. He'd known she'd grow up but, gods above, the little girl he'd remembered crashes and shatters against the beautiful, adult woman she is now.

Ben hesitates outside her studio, undecided on whether to leave or go inside.

Rey takes the decision from him by opening the door. “Oh god!” She exclaims, stepping back and breathing heavy. He tracks the rise and fall of her heaving chest with greedy eyes. “What're you doing?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why are you hovering at the door?” She cups his face and he's shameful enough to receive pleasure from the gesture. “Are you all right? You look disturbed.”

I am disturbed, he wants to tell her. Depraved, twisted and sick. His fingers itch to hold her, pull her close and make her his.

“You're feverish,” she notes, her touch sweeping up to his forehead.

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.” She steps outside, closing the door with an ominous click. “I should take you home. You need rest.”

He can imagine her tucking him into his bed and he'd convince her to stay. For a little while, until he falls asleep. She'd slide in right next to him, whisper in his ear all the dirty things she wants to do to him. Her small hand traveling down, down…

“No!” Rey starts at the volume of his voice and he cringes. “You're right. I haven't been feeling well. I shouldn't have come.”

“Let me take you home,” she insists.

“It's not that bad,” he says. “I'll leave early from work today if it gets worse.”

She pouts and he desperately wants to bite her bottom lip. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, okay. I'll call you later to make sure.”

Rey tips up, pulling him down to her, and hugs him. He fists his hands to his sides, not trusting himself to keep the embrace pure and innocent.

“You're very hot,” she says worriedly as she steps away. “Are you sure I can't take you home?”

“Yes, I'm fine,” he answers and then sneezes.

\---

“Ah-choo!”

Rey groans and snatches more tissue from the box, blowing her nose and wiping her watery eyes. “Ugh.”

“How'd you get sick?” Hux asks from far away, standing at the bedroom door. “You're by yourself all day.”

“Oh, I, ah, ah, ah-choo!”

“Bless you.”

“Thanks,” she says blearily. “I went to a café the other day for lunch and I think,” she coughs into her hand. Her lungs gasp for air before they settle. “The person sitting behind me had the plague or something just as horrendous.”

Not quite a lie. Stupid Ben giving her his cold.

“Well, don't come near me.”

She sniffles, “You’re not going to take care of me?”

“I don't want your germs,” he huffs.

“Hmmph, fine,” she nestles deeper into the bed. “I'll sleep here all by myself.”

“You will,” he nods. “I'll be on the couch.”

“But…”

Hux turns out the light and closes the door.

“I love you,” she whispers in the dark.

\---

“You're early!”

Rey hugs both Finn and Poe, so happy to see them.

“Yeah,” Finn replies. “I had extra vacation time saved up and I figured I might as well surprise you. He just came along,” he jerks a thumb at Poe. “Because he has nothing better to do.”

“I crashed my plane into the desert,” Poe explains. “I'm on hiatus until the leg heals up.”

“Oh my gosh,” her eyes widen when she finally notices his cast and crutches. “Is it bad?”

“I just fractured it in two places. No big deal,” he shrugs. “If the parachute hadn’t failed at the last minute, I probably would've walked away instead of crawling.”

“So this is your studio?” Finn marvels, walking around.

“My home away from home,” she nods. “I'm here most of the time.”

“What's this?” Poe asks, attempting to pull the sheet covering her final piece.

“Don't touch that,” she warns, slapping his hand. “I'm still working on it.”

“What is it?” He hobbles around and whistles. “Looks big.” He taps a knuckle on the clothed surface. “Solid. Is that…?”

“Hello?” Another voice interrupts his question. “Rey?”

“Oh!” She fixes her hair and straightens her clothes much to her friends' surprise.

“Fiancé?” Poe wonders to Finn, who shrugs his shoulders.

“Ben, I'm glad you’re here,” she grins as he walks up. “Look who's come early.”

“Hi,” Finn greets.

“Hello,” Poe waves.

“Uh, hello,” Ben nods.

“I remember you,” Poe snaps his fingers. “Ex-ow!” He glares at Finn. “What was that for?”

“Sorry, I had a muscle spasm,” Finn apologizes with a frown and shaking his head subtlety.

“Oh.” The light bulb finally clicks on. “Oh!”

Ben watches them both with suspicion.

“Rey,” Finn says. “Could we talk to you for a minute,” he glances at Ben. “Privately?”

“Okay,” she replies. “You guys are acting weird.”

The second they're alone, Poe hisses, “Are you having an affair?”

“What?”

“That's your ex-husband.”

“What!” She didn't think her eyes could get bigger.

“Remember? When we were playing in the clubhouse? And you said Ben was your husband?”

“Oh god,” she laughs. “That was so long ago. Wait, ex-husband?”

“Yeah, he-ow!” He punches Finn in the arm. “That's my good foot.”

“What Poe is trying to say,” Finn sighs. “Is that since you moved away, we assumed you got a divorce.” He chuckles a little, “Kids can be dumb.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Rey frowns, “And anyway, we're friends now. He takes me to lunch.”

“Lunch,” Poe smirks. “Is that what you kids call it these days?”

“It's not like that!” She claps a hand over her mouth. “It's not like that,” she says lower. “He's Hux's friend.”

“Does Hux know you're having lunch with his friend?”

“Ye-yes. Maybe.” She looks down, scuffs her shoe on the floor. “No.”

“Rey.”

Her head drops lower. “Nothing happens.”

“Do you want something to happen?”

_Yes._

“No,” she squeaks.

“Rey,” Finn lays a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezes. “You should tell your fiancé the truth. And Ben too.”

“I can't.” Tears sting her eyes and she swipes at them angrily. “I just got him back. I don't want to lose him again.” She pleads with them, “Please don't say anything. I'm not… We won't… We're just friends, I promise.”

“You can't keep lying to them. Or yourself.”

“I know.”

“All right,” Poe says. “Let's get back to the ex-husband, before he thinks we’re having a threesome back here.”

“How do you put up with him?” She asks Finn with a roll of her eyes.

“I don't know,” he answers honestly.

“Hey, Ben,” Poe shouts, ignoring his friends. “Since we're all here, let's go to _lunch_.” He finger quotes the last word.

“I'm going to push him into traffic,” Rey whispers to Finn. “Should be easy. He's half-crippled already.”

“I'll help,” he laughs.

\---

After dropping Finn and Poe off at their hotel, Ben takes Rey back to her studio. She's surprised when he follows her inside. “Shouldn't you get back to work?”

“I took the day off,” he answers, making himself comfortable on the stool. “I didn't feel like working today.”

“Are you still sick?”

“Not really,” he bites at his bottom lip.

“If you're sick, you need to go home.” She plants her hands on her hips. “I just got over the cold you gave me.”

“Rey.” He pins her with a look so open and honest it takes her breath. “Come here.”

She steps toward him and stops. Shaking her head, she says, “No, I can't.”

“Please.”

She knows what he wants, but she still holds her ground. “Ben, don't. We'd only do something we'd regret. And I don't want to regret you.”

“You would still marry him?”

Rey holds her head up high, willing her next word to be true. “Yes.”

“I'm sorry.” He laughs, bitter and self-deprecating. “I know how you felt now. How did you survive it?”

“It'll pass,” she answers. “I hope you understand someday.”

“I don't think I will.”

He gives her one final look that breaks her heart and she takes a stuttering step toward him, but he flashes her a sad smile and shakes his head.

Ben stands, stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks out of her studio. Out of her life once more.

She waits for the door to shut before collapsing onto the floor, a broken, sobbing mess.

\---

It’s good to be home, he thinks, standing at the entryway to his mother's house.

“Ben? Is that you?” Leia steps down the stairs, brows furrowed at his hunched stance.

“Yes, I'm back,” he replies. “I missed you.”

“I didn't expect you until Christmas.” She stares at the suitcases at his feet. “What's wrong?”

“Mom,” he cries, shuffling toward her and engulfing her in his arms.

“Hush,” she soothes, stroking his back. “Tell me all about it.”

So he does. From the wonderful beginning to the heart-wrenching end.

\---

“And this,” Rey proclaims, standing next to her final piece, still draped in a sheet. Hux is beside her, smiling at everyone, with an arm around her waist. She tugs at the cloth, “Is _Young God_.”

The sheet falls to the ground and the crowd oohs and aahs at the six foot high chalk portrait on a concrete slab. She'd captured him as she remembered. The pout of his full lips, the warmth of his brown eyes and the sweep of his dark hair. He's a little older than the original she'd drawn on the sidewalk. A little sadder too.

The flash of cameras and clicks of cell phones is blinding and deafening. And then a single clap starts, growing until the whole room applauses. Rey grins and wipes a tear from her eyes.

Hux is frozen next to her, mouth agape at Ben's portrait. His fingers tighten at her waist. “What is this?” He hisses in her ear. “You've made a fool of me.”

“I've made a fool of all of us,” she moves away from him.

“Behind my back,” He spits out. “How long has it been going on? Since you met?”

“No, please believe me,” she begs. “I didn't cheat on you. I would have married you.”

“Don't settle for me on my account,” he growls. “Even if you didn't betray me, you would have.”

Yes, she would have. She almost did. The truth makes her feel lighter somehow.

“I'm sorry,” she strips off the ring on her finger, offering it to him. He swipes it from her. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I hope you're happy together,” he sneers and strides away.

“Rey-whoa!” Poe exclaims as Hux shoulders past him. “He looks pissed.”

“Rey!” Finn hugs her tightly. “It's gorgeous. Beautiful. He's beautiful, which is odd to say because he's all,” he mimes a big nose. “You know!”

“Yes, I know,” she nods, laughing.

“We should tell her,” Poe says seriously, looking at Finn.

“Tell me what?”

“Champagne?” A tall, blonde woman interrupts, holding two flutes.

“Thank you,” Rey smiles, taking a glass. “This is Phasma, my commissioner. Finn and Poe, my friends.”

“Hmm, I do like it,” Phasma comments, shrewdly glancing at the portrait. “There's something raw in his look. Did he model for you?”

“Sort of,” she nods.

“I don't think I could take it though,” Phasma sips at her flute. “Too personal.”

“Oh, I, well, I understand. You can deduct from my commission.”

“No, I don't think so.”

“I see.”

“I want you to replace it with what I’d requested. A reimagining of a classic,” Phasma says sternly though not without a hint of a smile. “This one is an original.”

“It might take me some time.”

“I'll wait. In the meantime, when you're done talking with your friends, I have some other interested buyers willing to commission you for more work.” Phasma starts to walk away, but turns. “You'll make mine first.”

“Yes, of course,” Rey smiles. “Thank you.”

“That was so exciting,” Finn says, jumping for joy. “I nearly bit my tongue to keep from screaming.”

“So what were you going to tell me?” She asks.

Poe looks at Finn and nods. They begin their tale of Christmastime years ago, when they'd met Ben and he'd requested a favor.

Rey smiles when they finish.

“What're you going to do?” Poe asks her.

“Hmm, I think I'm going to go home,” she answers.

“Right now?”

“After the party,” she grins.

“Yeah!”

“Woo!” Finn hollers.

\---

“Are you going to get up today?”

The next day:

“Your friend, Hux, called. I don't think he's your friend anymore. He said terrible things about you.”

And the next:

“You have a visitor.”

Can't his mother leave him alone to wallow in his misery for a few days or years? “Mmph,” Ben mumbles into his pillow, burrowing further under the covers. “Tell them to fuck off.”

“That's not a pleasant thing to say.” Leia’s sigh carry through the his bedroom door. “But I'll give her the message.”

Finally.

He closes his eyes, drifting off briefly before her words click into his brain. He sits up fast and flings the covers off. Stumbling around his room, he shrugs into a shirt and hops into a pair of pants. Screw the shoes for now.

“Mom,” he calls out, taking the stairs down two at a time, nearly tripping in his haste. “What did you say?”

“She's outside,” Leia smiles. “Waiting for you.”

\---

He finds her crouched over the sidewalk, drawing aimlessly with a piece of chalk.

“Rey!”

She stands and turns to him, the same bright and hopeful look filled with love.

“Ben.”

He returns it with a smile, colliding into her and raining kisses on her face, hands cupped reverently on her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. the girl with the sun in her head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all want her. The question is, who's going to get her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My humble nod to those wonderful College/Coffee Shop AUs.
> 
> Enjoy!

She's going to be late.

Rey picked up her pace through the hallway, rounding the corridor wide with a slight hitch in her step (was it left or right?), and turned right...

…smack into a wall.

No, not a wall, a person, she noted, when her book, notepad and various papers fluttered and flopped to the ground. Thank God and all that's Holy, her laptop was in its bag slung on her shoulders.

 _Wah_ , her brain cried. _I hate school._

She stood there dumbly, because there's really no other reaction called for when you've woken up past all your alarms and snoozes, dressed with record time in questionably clean clothes, misplaced your keys and found them after a harried ten minute search, ran back to your apartment because you forgot to brush your fuzzy teeth and then forgot where your class ( _curse you, Netflix_ ) was today. Oh and then, ran into someone that's built like a goddamn wall.

That someone was currently on all fours, apologizing profusely, whilst gathering up the detritus that was her crap and theirs mixed up on the ground. She should probably help. Or something.

“Watch where you’re going,” she snipped and dropped down to assist.

That was probably the least helpful thing she could've said. But hey, she's not in community college to make friends. And she's down here, isn't she?

_Gah, people can be so judgmental._

“I'm sorry,” his deep voice replied, because of course it's a guy. Women weren't usually hard and solid. The few that were, Rey was still able to bowl them over with her own stubbornness and determination to get where she's going. “I didn't see you,” he continued, handing her a yellow legal pad.

“No, that's yours,” she snapped. “This is mine,” she snatched the notepad underneath his other hand.

“Running a little late today?”

He's attempting small talk now? Really? What's next, the weather?

“None of your business,” she picked up her nearby book and clutched it to her chest. “Isn't it obvious?” she added, when she realized she was taking her bitchiness a little too far.

It's not his fault that she woke up late.

He hummed in that gravelly voice of his that turned her insides to jelly. “Me too.”

She's annoyed that she can't get a good look at him with his head down as he's sorting their stuff into two piles. Taking his sweet, freaking time to actually read and catalogue the items. And she's letting him; she's too frazzled and tired to be any real help.

Rey did point out that the notepad was hers. And picked up her book. So there.

He had black hair, longer than it had any right to be ( _get a haircut, Shaggy_ ), with soft waves curling around his scalp. Broad shouldered and backed from what she could tell from her slightly higher position and fuck, his hands were huge. Everything he touched was dwarfed by them.

What else was huge on him? Rey thought dryly.

_Whoa, shelve that thought for someone else who's not a complete stranger. PS: Get laid._

She bit her tongue to keep from asking his name, deciding to put him into the Stay Away From corner of her mind. It's doubtful, she'd run ( _ha!_ ) into him again. The campus was small, but the college itself was spread out over three cities. Today was her only class where she had to be in Coruscant. Stupid, confusing website that didn't announce it in big, bold letters somewhere.

Like a pop-up would have been nice: You've enrolled in a class thirty miles away. Are you sure you want to continue? Yes/No?

Click “No” and forget about completing your General Ed courses. Thank you and have a nice day!

_Fuck you, Resistance Community College._

Okay, so she did know, in the back of her mind, that one of her classes might be a pain to get to. But still, they couldn't offer English 101 in Jakku?

“All set,” he announced, taking one pile for himself and leaving the other. “Sorry again.”

“Don't worry about it,” Rey found herself surprised by saying. She grabbed the other pile and stood up. “I should've paid attention to where I was going too.”

Wall-man stood up as well. And up. Tall enough that she had to crane her neck to look at his face.

Conversationally, he's handsome; an oddball contrast of features and proportions.

Big nose, long, angular face with a smattering of moles, and ears that poked out slightly from his hair would, individually, appear ridiculous on a person. But on him, all together, fit given his stature. They made sense, in a pleasing way. He even looked cute with the glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were a soft brown and expressive, showing warmth and good-humor despite the way they ran into each other. Literally and figuratively.

His full lips were a goddamn sin, wasted on someone like him. The needle based on his appearance flew back to Hell-o! category on his pout alone. The things he could do with that mouth; the possibilities were mouth-watering ( _double-ha!_ ).

And his hair? Layered and framed his countenance, softening his features and making him appear younger. She hazarded he was in his mid-twenties to early-thirties. Not uncommon in community college; she had a seventy year old woman in her beginner's computer class after all. Her fingers begged to comb through those luscious tresses over and over. He ran his own fingers through it as if he knew what she was thinking ( _tease_ ). One thick lock flopped back on his forehead. It takes everything in her not to reach up and tuck it away.

Tall, pale, and gorgeous ( _gorgeous? ah, fuck it, I'm tired_ ) was a new one on her, but whatevs. The universe has thrown her weirder shit.

The rumpled suit, however, had to go. We're taking community college a little too seriously, aren't we? But the bulge of muscles in his biceps allowed some leeway in his choice of dress. A tiny part, very tiny, of her hoped to see him again in regular clothes. Not skinny jeans and tight shirt regular, but he'd do them justice, she's sure of that. His broad shoulders and chest tapered smoothly down to his waist. _Low, slung pants, button undone? Yes, please._

He looked down at her, probably did that to everyone he met, and grinned. Aw, his teeth were uneven, with sharp canines and mismatched incisors. Now, he's just fucking adorable.

_He's a big dope is what he is._

“Nice running into you,” he said with a rumbling laugh. “But I've got to go.”

He ran off with a loping gait, long legs eating up distance that she envies more than she should. Rey wasn't short for a woman, but she'd kill for legs like his. The time she'd save walking anywhere, her car is a piece of crap and broke down far too often, would be heavenly.

“Shit!”

Rey took off in the other direction, remembering that her class started in a few minutes.

\---

She made it with seconds to spare, sliding into her seat with a sigh of relief. She set all her things on the top of the desk with a thud, not caring about the student next to her frowning in annoyance.

“Turn to page two-ten of your book,” the instructor requested, booming voice projecting throughout the small classroom. “And continue to read to the next page.”

Rey spread her papers and notepad away, the other student flicked them off his side of the desk ( _territorial, much?_ ), to reveal her book and dutifully turned to the page.

Only the words didn't quite match up to an English lesson. They were about accounting and the Generally Accepted Accounting Principles. _That's the four dumbest words to be put together. Ever._

“What the fuck?” she said a little too loudly.

“Sshh,” her neighbor hissed.

“You sshh,” she retorted.

“You should be reading,” the instructor said, glaring at the both of them from the front of the class. “And not making noise.”

Chastised, Rey looked back down at the book, but not before sticking her tongue out childishly at her neighbor. He returned the gesture, reading afterward with a smirk of triumph. Rey could tell she was going to like her neighbor not one bit.

She turned a few pages, hoping against hope that her eyes were playing tricks on her. _Oh, hey, example financial spreadsheets._ Nope, no such luck.

Closing the text, she read the title. _Financial and Managerial Accounting: Teacher’s Edition_ stared back at her.

She must've grabbed the wrong book. Easy to do, they were the same size and coloring. And she assumed that Wall-man was another student. No, she stole an instructor's textbook if it was anything to go by.

Well, shitty-shit-shit. If that doesn't just make her day. Can't imagine the one he's going to have while he's teaching his class. Sighing deeply, she realized she's going to have borrow from someone in order to follow along. And goddamnit, it was going to be her neighbor.

“Hey,” she leaned over to whisper at him. “I brought the wrong book. Can you share?”

He looked at her with a sneer and she gave him her best puppy eyes. Sad pout thrown in to seal the deal. He still stared at her with contempt.

Is she going to have to get on her knees and beg? Screw that, she'd rather suffer for the rest of class.

“Finn,” he said in a low tone, sticking out a hand.

 _For real?_ She just wanted to read off his book, not make love to it.

Swallow your pride and go with it, she told herself. It's just one crap day after all and he could've blown her off.

Optimism was a goddamn, self-righteous bitch sometimes.

“Rey,” she begrudgingly admitted, shaking his hand.

Finn slid his book to the center, scooching his chair over so that he could read better. Rey followed suit, nodding at him in thanks. He grinned wide, friendly and open suddenly. She gave him a million-watt smile.

They bumped shoulders as they read, “Sorry” said in chorus. He snickered, she giggled.

_It's like Lady and the Tramp, but with a book and in a classroom._

Slam!

They jolted in their chairs and looked up. The instructor glared at them again, this time right in front of their desk.

“Am I going to have to separate you two?”

“No,” they stuttered together.

“Good,” he turned away. “I want an essay on the importance of paying attention in class,” he began as he strutted back to the front of the classroom. “A thousand words, single-spaced, proper grammar, spelling and sentence structure. Turned in next week. From everyone.” He nodded as he spun around. “You may thank your two classmates for their disruption.”

The class collectively groaned and turned to face them, pure hatred in their faces.

 _Wah_ , her brain cried. _I really hate school._

\---

“Rey,” Finn called out after the class ended, struggling to catch up to her brisk stride. “Where're you going?”

“I've got to find someone.” Rey stopped and he plowed into her back. Keeping the biting comment from spitting out, she turned to him, “Do you know an instructor that's really…” _Don't say good-looking._ “…tall?” She extended one arm above her head to his approximate height.

Finn frowned, “Dark hair, beady eyes?”

“I wouldn't say he had, never mind, yeah. Him.”

“He has an office in the faculty section, Professor Ren.”

Ooh, professor. _Fancy._ What's he doing in a lowly community college?

“Okay, thanks.”

He grabbed her arm before she could get away. “You're not one of them, are you?”

“No, I don't think so,” she shrugged off his hold, not really understanding what he meant.

“Oh, good,” he grinned, looking too relieved. “You have one of his classes then?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, why not?”

“He's probably still in class, but he heads to his office after.”

“Awesome,” she chirped.

“Rey,” he called out again before she could escape. “You wanna write our essay together? We could meet up somewhere or I could come to your place.” His eyes bugged out. “Or mine.” His stance is both nonchalant and nervous. “Wherever is cool with you.”

At this point, she'd say anything to get him to let her go.

Juggling her papers and notepad, Rey scribbled out her address on a blank sheet and handed it to him. “Great, whatever. That's my cell at the bottom,” she gripped his shirt and pulled him forward until they were nose to nose. “It’s not for booty-calls. You come over, you try something and I will bash your brain in.” She pushed him off. “Got it?”

“Is-is it all right if I bring booze?”

“That would be lovely.”

Rey skipped away, “Text me later,” breaking into a run in case he decided to grab her again.

“How about food?” He yelled at her retreating back.

“I'll like you better if you do,” she sing-songed.

His responding laugh made her smile.

\---

Coruscant had the larger campus, so Rey was winded by the time she reached the faculty offices. Sweat pricking her eyes, she blinked several times before she could read the names beside the doors.

_Kanata, no. Hux, no. Ren, no. Oh, wait._

She stumbled backward, peeking through the slim window on the door. Professor Ren was inside, speaking to another student. She pressed his textbook to window and tapped on the glass.

He glanced up in irritation before his brows lifted. A gesture with a finger told her to wait.

“I don't have time for this,” she grumbled at her phone’s clock, showing that she had one hour to get back to her apartment and dress for work. Thirty minute drive home and fifteen to work, she calculated in her head. I might be able to shower if he hurries up, she thought. The clock changed, mocking her.

 _You're not so hot. I could get a new one, you know. I've got an upgrade coming next month._ She pierced her phone with her most threatening glare.

 _Ha, now you have fifty-eight minutes_ , it said, not phased in the slightest. _Fifty-seven, woo! Isn't this fun?_

She turned off the screen. _Look who's the bitch now._

Rey slid down the wall and puffed at her hair. Five minutes ticked by. She texted her boss that she was going to be late and had no idea on the time she'd be able come in. He replied with a not to worry, she could make up her time by staying later. Ten minutes passed and she was starting to hate the professor.

 _He totally did this on purpose_ , her brain reasoned maniacally. _Oh yeah, ran into you, stole your book, and, and… met with a student, knowing you were running late._

_You're a little crazy, brain._

_Oh, I know._

She played a mind-numbing game of Candy Crush before her phone decided it was out of juice. _Battery low, shutting down._

“Aagh!” She screamed just as the door opened.

Rey didn't bother getting up, just held out his book. She tapped against his shin but he ignored it.

_Bastard!_

“Thank you for speaking with me, Miss Netal,” Professor Ren said, kneeing the incessant tap of his book on his leg away. It came back in full force. He's going to have a bruise there later.

Miss Netal tittered and shyly nodded, because that's what you do when you're attracted to your teacher. She's pretty, in a gorgeous, untouchable supermodel way. Slim, leggy and with wide-set, almond-shaped eyes. Miss Netal had no problems flaunting her assets to get what she wanted.

_Eye-the-fuck-roll._

“Thank you for your time, Professor,” she said, sugary sweet and batting lashes. “I'll see you next week.”

_Gag._

Miss Netal sauntered away, hips swaying in exaggeration, after giving Rey a look of disgust.

At least Professor Ren didn't so much as blink an eye at the show, instead he stepped over the proffered book and walked back into his office. “Come in,” he said.

Rey peered inside, “Can you just take your book? Please?”

She's not above begging. But she chose when to do so and the level needed to get what she wanted.

He paused in his rifling through his satchel. “I assume you want your book as well?” He frowned, “Unless this is an inane excuse to come back and ogle me.”

That was not ogling earlier in the hallway when she'd crashed into him. More like reading a map and plotting interesting places to visit. _I've never seen a ball of yarn the size of a building before. I shall go and examine it someday._

“What? No!”

She scrambled to her feet and resisted the urge to chuck the book straight at his stupidly handsome face. “Here,” she grunted, holding the textbook out.

“Set it down, please,” he nodded to his desk. “I feel like if you don't, I might see it closer than I’d prefer.”

Oh, so he could tell that she wanted to throw it at him. Good. Rey slammed the book down. Professor Ren didn't flinch or twitch a muscle. He reached into his satchel and pulled out hers, setting it down next to his in the same manner.

_Ah, college. Brings out the best in every one._

It's not eye-fucking, if she's attempting to set him on fire with her glare.

Unfortunately, she's not pyrokinetic, but she didn't break contact and neither did he. A full minute clicked away. She was willing to wait for the power to manifest itself, but she's late enough for work as it was. Reluctantly conceding, Rey slid her book toward her and lifted it up, holding it against her chest. “Thanks,” she spun on her heel and stormed out.

She missed his satisfied smile from winning their staring contest. In the midst of grabbing the rest of her things outside his office, he poked his head out. Then his whole body followed and loomed over her crouched form.

“What's your name?” He asked.

“None of your business,” she huffed, slinging her laptop bag on one shoulder, and stood.

“I need to know.”

_I need a million dollars, but I'm not getting that any time soon._

“Get bent.” She probably shouldn't be talking to him like that, but he's not one of her teachers. “Professor,” she added with an eyeroll and as much disdain as she could muster. Which was a lot.

“Well, Miss Bent,” he smirked down at her. “It was a pleasure running into you today. Thank you for returning my textbook.”

“Not the same and you're welcome.”

_Manners, the great equalizer._

He laughed as returned to his office and then closed his door, preventing any further communication.

Which was goddamn fine for her. She's never going to see or talk to him again.

High above, the gods of Karma and Famous Last Words looked down from their perch in the clouds and plotted. They have something special planned for this one. Yes, indeed, they do.

\---

“Sorry, sorry,” Rey hurried behind the counter, tying her apron back. “I had the worst day.”

“Rey, thank god you're here,” Poe beamed, slinging an arm around her waist and tugging her close.

“Why?” She hated when he did that and pushed away from him. He hovered over her constantly, setting her nerves into overdrive and prickling her skin. Affection was not her strong point, even with her few friends.

One friend.

Whatever.

Was it sad that she considered her boss a friend? “Is there a rush?”

“Oh yeah, we're filled to the brim,” he gestured with a sweep of his hand to the few regulars inside the coffee shop.

She snorted. His puns were the worst.

“I missed your gorgeous smile and sunny disposition,” he sighed, hand to his heart. “It's so lonely here without you.”

“Laying it on a little thick, Poe,” she warned, the corners of her mouth lifted. “What do you want?”

“We should run away together,” he continued, gripping her arms from behind and nestling his chin on her right shoulder. “And open a detective agency.”

“A detective agency?”

All right, so she had the smallest crush on her boss. He's dark-skinned and suave with soulful, bedroom eyes. Sue her, if she liked his playfulness enough to get over her touching issues.

“You'll be the uptight, but beautiful, brains behind the operation,” Poe glanced at her, wagging his eyebrows. “I'll be the dashing figurehead that everyone believes does all the work.”

“You've been watching _Remington Steele_ again, haven't you?” Rey accused.

“Guilty,” he confessed, squeezing her arms before moving away. “I love that show.”

“Piece Brosnan is cute,” she agreed.

“He's a god amongst men and don't you forget it.” He bit his bottom lip, mood shifting. “I wanna talk to you about something, but after we close. Okay?”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Eh,” he wavered his hand. “Good and bad.”

“Sounds serious,” she commented. “Coming from you.”

“I know,” he laughed. “Weird, right?”

\---

Rey locked up the front door, set the chairs on the tables and wiped the counter. She was in charge of the front lobby and Poe tallied the books in the back. For a moment, so small one might need a microscope for it, her mind flashed to someone else with dark hair. The image disappeared with a shake of her head.

“What’d you want to talk about?” She asked, setting two mugs of coffee on his desk and hopping up in front of him to sit on the surface. She toed the armrest of his chair, making it swivel back and forth.

Poe winked at her, “Careful there, a man's gonna have ideas when you do things like that.”

“Yeah, right,” she rolled her eyes.

He surged forward, surprising a squeak out of her, and caged her between his arms. His legs made hers splay out wider. “Rey, could you not be like that?”

“Be like what?” She managed to get out in a breathy whisper.

 _Oh my god, is he going to… On his desk…_ She's had so many fantasies about this.

He was close enough that she could see the pores on his face and count the individual lashes on his eyes. Two choices, three maybe, came up in her mind.

One, she could lean forward that extra distance and kiss him. She'd always wanted to and he was right there with his gaze darting to and fro from her eyes to her lips. He's smiling a little with his eyebrows raised slightly, like he's waiting for her to make a decision on the next move.

Two, she could lean back and crack a joke about his proximity. Though nothing humorous about her crush within kissing distance came to mind. There's always the possibility that this was another aspect of his playfulness. And he'd only meant to catch her attention as he's done before. So anything she did, would be met with awkwardness on both their parts ( _meeting awkward parts, mmrh_ ).

Three, she could headbutt him. _That's a shitty idea. Don't do that._

After what seemed like hours ( _it’s been less than a minute, chill out_ ), Poe sighed and held her face with both hands and bit her softly on the tip of her nose. “You're so fucking adorable,” he said. “I don't know whether to eat you all up or hug you to death.”

“That's morbid,” she replied, scrunching her nose and rubbing the tip.

He laughed lightly and sat back down in his chair, “It’s also a Cure song.”

_Way to go. You've blown it._

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“I got a call from our next door neighbor,” Poe began. “They offered to buy this place so that they could expand.”

“Oh, that's, um, bad?”

“Well,” he shrugged. “The money is tempting.”

“How much?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“Dollars?”

“Rubles. I don't know what the currency exchange is, but that's still a lot of money. Right?”

“Stop shitting me,” she pushed at his chair with a foot.

“Yeah, dollars,” Poe smirked. “We’re in a great part of the city and the shop is huge. They're willing to pay that much to get it. They figure the expansion will make up for it.”

“It sounds like you've already made your decision,” Rey said, her voice breaking. Where will she find another job?

“I want to give you half.”

_What?_

“What?”

“You deserve it, Rey,” he smiled at her. “You're sweet and beautiful, but life keeps throwing you crap and I want to take care of you.” Poe stood up and placed himself in front of her again. “I know that sounds sexist and shit, but it would be your money. You could do anything you wanted with it.”

“I don't know what to say.”

_How about yes, idiot?_

“You don't have to decide now. There's some stipulations before they'll give you half.”

“Like what?”

“You have to be part-owner for at least a year.”

“But I'm just your employee.”

“I have a friend who can help with that.” Poe settled his hands on her hips, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. She tried not to twitch or freak out ( _too late_ ). “He owes me a favor and I've talked to him about it. He's agreed to cash it in and be even.”

“Is this where the bad part comes?”

“It's kind of illegal and unethical, depending on how you look at it.”

“Oh.”

She's never been to prison before, but it's definitely not on her bucket list.

“My friend’s good at what he does. We won't be caught.”

“I don't know…”

“Please think about it?” He kissed her on the forehead, chaste and innocent. “It'll take him time to draft the paperwork. You can think about it until next week.”

“Next week?”

“If you say no, then I'll still give you half. But I know in that big brain of yours, you'll feel obligated to me.”

“I'd feel obligated regardless.”

Poe sighed, dropping his head on her shoulder. “Yeah, but this way, if I just give you a quarter of a mil, I wouldn't say something stupid and crass like, 'I gave you a bunch of cash, suck my dick.'"

“For that much, it'd better be an awesome dick,” Rey deadpanned.

He looked up and grinned, “Oh, it is. I've been told several times.”

She giggled and then looked away, worrying the inside of her cheek. “I'll think about it.”

“I will give you the money, Rey. No matter what you decide.”

“I won't have to suck your awesome dick?”

“I mean,” he shrugged. “You could touch it at the very least.”

“I'll think about that too.”

They both laughed.

“So.”

“So.”

He stared at her again, waiting, waiting, _waiting_. But she can't make the leap; the blind faith that he'd even reciprocate what she felt for him. It's depressing, if she's honest with herself. Really fucking depressing.

“Umm…” Her mouth twisted and tears stung her eyes. “I have to go.”

“Class in the morning?” Poe asked, retreating back to give her space. Was he disappointed?

_We’re all goddamn disappointed._

“Yes?” She shook her head. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he smiled, soft and sweet. “Walk you to your car?”

She nodded, angry at herself for a missed opportunity.

Rey slid down until her feet touched the floor; her body inches from his. Poe glanced down briefly at her mouth and then swiveled off to the side, guiding her outside with a hand on her back.

They didn't talk on the way to her car, though she felt she should say something, anything really, to diffuse the tension. “Thank you for, for…” She faltered as they reached her car. “Everything.”

_Thank you for everything? No, no, there's no hole to swallow you up. Wallow miserably in your crappy gratitude._

“You're welcome,” he said. “Good night, Rey.”

“Good night,” she replied.

“Drive home safely.”

She pulled over a block away and screamed.

\---

The alarm blared and Rey mashed the snooze button as if it’d done her a disservice. It did, because it’d felt like she'd only just placed her head on the pillow before a shrill noise decided to announce that it was time to get ready.

The snooze rang five minutes later and she rolled out of bed, numbly going through her morning ritual of getting cleaned up and dressed. She dug through her laptop bag and pulled out her phone, recalling belatedly that it’d been dead since yesterday. Plugging it into its charger, she sat on her couch and stared at her darkened TV.

Rey had tossed and turned all night, replaying last evening's events. She spent the morning, doing much of the same, staring off into space as she thought long and hard about the things she did to keep people, men in particular, at an arm’s length.

What was the worse that could've happened? If she'd kissed Poe, what would he have done? He was too good-natured and easy going to reject her outright. She's sure he'd have been nice about it. Of course, any rejection would sting, no matter how it's dealt. But he would be respectful of her feelings. And no one's died from hearing “Nope, sorry.” That she knew of anyway.

And then, there was Finn. He seemed like a decent enough person. He'd made that jump, the one she couldn't make with Poe, to introduce himself despite her piss-poor attitude toward him. After all, she'd come in like a whirlwind to class and dumped her stuff all over their desk. How else was he supposed to initially react? He chased after her, maybe got a little too grabby, but he only wanted to have a study date. Nothing in his manner screamed psychopath.

Professor Ren, though, could go fuck himself.

Nodding to herself, she resolved to have a better outlook on the people around her… except for the professor. Because he's a dick. Not an awesome one either.

Rey got up from her couch, grabbed her phone and backpack and left for class.

High above, the gods of Karma and Famous Last Words high-fived each other. The fun was just about to begin.

\---

She arrived at her beginner's computer class early. Sat down on the concrete by the door and turned her phone on. As soon as it booted up, several messages from an unknown number pinged:

12:01pm Hey. It's me, Finn.

12:06pm I was thinking Sat. was a good time to come over. Unless you're busy?

12:17pm Are you in class?

12:25pm Okay, well, text me.

1:07pm Do you like Chinese?

1:10pm There's an IPA my roommate says tastes good. Should I bring that?

1:11pm I'm not trying to get you drunk or anything.

1:12pm That probably did sound like I was. Sorry.

1:47pm Maybe my phone’s not working. Are you getting my messages?

2:00pm If this is a wrong number, at least respond.

3:30pm I drove by your apartment.

3:31pm Okay, so I stopped at your apartment and knocked. You didn't answer.

4:00pm I'm not mad, but if you didn't want to meet up, you could've said so.

4:45pm bitch

5:01pm That was not me. I swear. My roommate took my phone. I was telling him about you and how you're not answering my messages. Then I went to the bathroom and I need to lock my screen, is what I'm saying. I don't think you're a bitch. Although if you gave me the wrong number on purpose…

5:01pm …that isn't very nice of you.

10:08pm I'm going to bed now. I work early in the morning, bleh. If you still want to write the essay together, text me. And if this is a wrong number, sorry for blowing up your phone. Text me when you can, wrong number or not. We can hang out. Have a few beers and laugh about my stupid messages.

10:12pm Good night.

Rey smiled at the end of his messages, saved his number in her contacts and drafted her response:

7:46am Sorry I haven't responded. My phone died. Saturday sounds great. Chinese is yummy. The food from New Star is my favorite. They don't deliver but you can order and pick it up. Or I can, whatever. Not a fan of IPAs but I'm willing to try it.

7:48am If you don't text me back, I'll understand. I wasn’t exactly nice to you from the beginning…

In the middle of her second reply, Finn messaged her back:

7:48am Great!! Awesome!!! Saturday @ 6 okay? In the evening, not morning, because that's crazy. Text me what you want from New Star and I'll pick it up.

She deleted her second message and replied:

Honey walnut shrimp with extra fried rice. I'll see you Saturday @ 6.

Finn answered back with a smiley face.

At ten 'til eight, the other students in class started arriving, milling about the door, and chatted to each other as they waited for the instructor to show up.

Rey was still sitting down, when she noticed the instructor walk toward the class. She only saw his legs between the students in front of her, which was strange because the instructor was female. It wasn't until the crowd parted to make room for him to open the door, that her blood ran cold.

Professor Ren. Shit.

 _See? See?_ Her brain cackled. _On purpose. He knows._

How would he know who she was though? She told him her name was Get Bent ( _not so much told as instructed. ha, get it? instructed? hilarious_ ) and even if he'd searched through enrollment and happened to find someone with that particular name ( _the fuck names their kid get bent?_ ) who signed up for this class, that’d be a very odd coincidence. Wouldn't it?

Why was he here? Where's Ms. Phasma?

_He killed her and skinned her to make a suit. And now, he's coming after you. For ties… or maybe a hat. Dun dun DUN!!!_

_Okay, seriously brain. You need to chill._

She huddled behind another classmate as they filed in, faked a cough into her arm, with her face turned away, and quickly made her way to her seat in the back of the room. Slouching in her chair, she moved her computer screen so that it blocked her from his view.

“Who's that?” her neighbor whispered. “He's not our normal teacher.”

What's her name? She'd said it once to her a while back when class started. Jen? Jeanette?

“I don't know,” Rey mumbled.

Jess? Jessica! No, wait, close. Jessika. That's it. Jessica with a K.

“Cute though, huh?” Jessika nudged Rey in the arm.

He did dress better this time around, forgoing the rumpled suit for a button up gray shirt and darker gray tie. The sleeves were rolled up neatly past his elbows, baring his forearms ( _is there nothing on this man that wasn't delicious?_ ). His shirt was tucked into pressed black slacks, slung low on his hips and held there with a leather belt. Shiny black dress shoes completed his ensemble. And his dark hair was still fucking gorgeous, framing his stupid face perfectly.

_Asshole. At least he's blind without those glasses. Unless he wears them for looks._

“Good morning,” Professor Ren greeted once everyone settled into their seats. “I'm Professor Ren and I'll be substituting today for Ms. Phasma while she's out ill.”

_Ill, pfft. Likely story. Poisoned more like._

“She's told me to hand out your packets and assist anyone having problems with today's lesson.” He dragged a hand through his hair as he sorted through his satchel, pulling out the aforementioned packets. “Which is Excel spreadsheets.”

“Oh my god, I want to be his hand,” Jessika giggled. “His hair is like heaven. Do you think he uses angels' tears as conditioner?”

_Probably spends a fortune on that shit._

“Huh?” Jessika asked.

“Oh, um, nothing,” Rey answered with a start, realizing she'd voiced her thought out loud.

So instead of handing out the packets to the front desks and letting them pass them back, like Ms. Phasma, Professor Ren took the time to hand them out individually. Like the jerk he was.

Rey slouched lower in her chair and wished she'd taken the one Jessika occupied closer to the wall. She dug out her phone and turned away from the aisle as he closed in on her.

_Shit! Shit!_

She’d dive under the desk if it didn't bring attention to herself. Tempted to do it anyway when he stopped at her table.

“No cell phones in my class, please,” he said, setting down the papers next to her monitor. “If I see you…”

His voice was mesmerizing, that's the only reason she could think of, when Rey turned in her seat and looked up at him. The second he recognized her, it’s as if someone had pressed the pause button on him for a split second before hitting play. His smile was wide and smug.

“Miss Bent,” he nodded. “Pleasure to run into you again.” He cleared his throat, “I will confiscate your phone if it comes out once more during class.”

“Sorry, Professor Ren,” she muttered, spitting out his name like she'd eaten something disgusting and shoving her cell back into her backpack. “Won't happen again.”

“Thank you.” He turned around and walked back up the aisle.

“That was weird,” Jessika remarked and reached over to pluck one packet from the stack. “I didn't know your last name was Bent. Kinda fucked up, Rey Bent, yeah?”

 _Wah_ , her brain cried. _I hate school._

\---

The class dragged.

Rey finished the lesson packet in a record fifteen minutes, set it aside and started fooling around on the internet ( _totally not searching his name at all_ ). Occasionally, she'd help Jessika with a problem because there's no way in hell, Rey'd allow her to call upon Professor Ren to assist.

He was, for the most part, keeping away. Sitting at the front desk and reading a book. When he was asked for help near her, her stomach dropped. But he'd get up, talk the student through the issue and return to his book. He didn't glance at her once during the entire hour.

Rey discovered, in totally not looking him up on the internet, that Professor Ren had no online presence whatsoever. No embarrassing profiles, inappropriate tweets or mundane blogs. The only place she found him was the RCC website listing him as an instructor for two classes, both of them accounting. Financial and Managerial, of course.

_Hey, wait. What's that?_

She clicked on a link to a Tumblr page that showcased several photos of a male model with a caption that read: this guy totes looks like my teacher @ RCC!!! #professorren #walkingsin

_Huh, he kinda does look like him. A younger version, anyway._

Searching the images resulted in the model’s name, Ben Solo. She leaned forward and studied one of his headshots. Then glanced at the professor, but couldn't get a good look due to the book covering his face. Casually, she maneuvered herself to attempt a peek at his profile. No such luck. The book obscured him well.

“Who's that?” Jessika asked, curious, and turned Rey's monitor toward her.

“Um, someone said he looks like Professor Ren,” Rey replied, sliding back to position.

“Hmm,” Jessika narrowed her eyes. “Younger maybe. Could be his doppelganger.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Jessika nodded. “I have a friend who looks just like David Duchnovny. Uncanny resemblance, super freaky. Anyway, who's this dude?”

“Ben Solo,” Rey answered, pulling up his wiki. “He was a model for CK. Had small parts in some TV shows and then, he retired from modeling and disappeared off the face of the Earth apparently.”

“Do you think he changed his name?”

“And became a professor?” _And taught accounting at a podunk community college? How boring._

“Well, yeah. It's not too far-fetched. Maybe he got tired of the high life.”

“Or maybe,” Rey refused to believe that. It was too outlandish ( _he could model still, if he was. his appearance isn't horrid_ ). “Ben married some normal chick and is now living on a farm, milking cows. And it's a coincidence that Professor Ren happens to look like him.”

“Or,” Jessika emphasized. “They're twins.”

The bell signaled the end of class and everyone hurried out of the room, haphazardly setting their packets on the desk. Jessika waved a cheery goodbye to Rey and pointedly stared at the professor as she walked by him to turn in her packet. His brows drew down at her regard, but then he shrugged and collected the papers into a neat stack.

Rey lingered as she gathered her backpack, glancing surreptitiously at him. Twins weren't a bad thought. Maybe Ben moved back home and lived with his brother, commandeering his couch and hogging the remote. She pictured a very frustrated professor arguing with his former model brother about cleaning up the place.

_Agh, there's crumbs all over my sofa! And what's that? Is that a stain?!_

_Sshh, Tremors is on._

_Ooh, my favorite. Pass me the popcorn._

_Hey! That's my popcorn. Get your own._

_I bought it. It's mine._

_Oh, here we go…_

“Is there something you need to speak to me about?” Professor Ren asked, disrupting her daydream.

“No,” she shook her head, shrugging on her backpack. “I was just leaving.”

As she walked up to turn in her assignment, Professor Ren stood, straightening his tie. He coughed nervously and raked his fingers through his hair ( _hmm, must be a tic_ ). He appeared pensive as if he was about to tell her something earth-shattering.

Second bell, you're going to be late!

“Goodbye,” she said and left the room in a near sprint, the door slamming in her wake.

“Damnit,” he muttered and ran his hands through his hair.

Sighing, he strolled around the classroom, turning off the computers and screens as per Ms. Phasma's request before he left.

His thoughts swirled around Miss Bent.

He'd wanted to apologize for his behavior from yesterday. She wasn't in either of his classes, so he'd thought he'd never get the chance. And he wasn't about to search for her through student records, any excuse given to trawl through enrollment would be suspicious. It didn't matter at any rate, Get Bent wasn’t her real name. Hilarious, though, the sentiment might be.

Today was a godsend. Being thankful that Ms. Phasma had the flu seemed terrible, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity. The policies regarding teacher-student relations dictated that he remain professional at the college, so the agonizing length of the class was pure torture. He'd only pretended to read, using the book as cover to keep from marching over to her desk and blurting out a hasty apology.

And now, she'd just literally ran out of the class. No doubt his attitude and behavior still burned in the front of her mind. Ah well, he mused, it's not as if he had a good reputation for being benevolent to his students.

 _She's not one of your students though._ He shivered at the implication behind that thought. She was pretty and at any other circumstances, he might have turned up his charm and asked her on a date. As it was, they were teacher and student. He prided himself on keeping those relations at that level. That was a road he'd never travel. Not again.

A dull ache twinged in his side, making him hiss, and he pressed a hand underneath his ribs. He carried out his chore of making sure everything was shutdown, limping through the pain.

Professor Ren stopped at her station, absently checking the web page left on her screen. His eyes widened at the familiar pictures.

“Fuck.”

\---

Rey took a large bite of her spring roll, cheek bulging comically at the morsel. “Mmph, this is so good.”

“You want some of my broccoli beef?” Finn asked as he slurped up low mein. She almost choked on a laugh; he looked like the Swamp Thing with all the noodles hanging out of his mouth.

“Ah, no,” she scoffed. “It's got onions in it.”

“So?” He attempted to make off with one of her shrimp and she battled with his chopsticks before conceding.

“Onions are the devil’s fruit.”

“I don't even… they're vegetables.”

“Exactly,” she nodded.

“All right, strange girl,” he grinned and took a swig from his beer. He leaned back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Now what? Essay's done. I'm full of Chinese...”

It’s clear that he didn't want to leave just yet. And surprisingly, she didn't want him to go. Happy at relishing his company. They were getting along, helping each other with their assignment and joking about the militaristic way the instructor paraded around the classroom. He was funny and sweet. Plus, she wanted to ask him about Professor Ren.

Rey had been thinking about this since Finn arrived, though how to go about asking without being obvious ( _screw it, just spit it out_ ). “Do you know all the teachers at school?”

“Eh,” Finn shrugged. “Most of them.”

“What about…” She scratched idly at her nose. “…Professor Ren?”

“Stay away from him, Rey,” he said, concern etched into his face. “I know enough to tell you that he's no good.”

“Why?”

“Do you know Bazine Netal?” He asked.

So that's her name. “Gorgeous, stuck up bitch?”

“Yeah.”

“What about her?”

“They're, you know,” he gestured with his hands, mashing them together.

“Seriously?” Her eyebrows rose. They didn't appear to be having an illicit affair. The professor hardly batted an eye at Bazine's obvious flirtations. “How do you know?”

“I saw her walking out of his office once,” he replied with a look of utter disgust.

“And?” She prompted.

“She wiped her mouth.”

The way he said it, serious and earnest, had Rey burst into a fit of giggles.

“It's true,” he insisted.

“I'm not doubting you,” she wiped a tear from her eye, which made her laugh again. “Sorry, sorry,” her laughter subsided. “I just don't think it means what you think it means.”

“She's always going to his office.”

“Probably to ask for clarification on an assignment.”

Rey's done that before, not to the professor of course. And she's wiped her mouth with no connotations of oral sex implied.

“That's the thing,” Finn said. “She's not in either of his classes.”

“No way,” Rey gasped. She recalled the length of time she'd spent waiting outside his office. Was fifteen minutes long enough for a blow job? She's not well-versed in that department. “Still,” she added. “If she's not in his class, then it's not exactly inappropriate.”

It made him a disgusting pig, but there's no shortage of those types flying around. For some reason that rankled her brain. Jerk that he was, she'd assumed he was above using his position to solicit sex.

_Huh, even awkward, gorgeous dopes wanted to get laid. Imagine that fucking shit._

“He has groupies,” Finn said. “All the girls in his class fawn over him. And some not in it too.”

_Obviously. Have you seen the guy?_

“Is that why you asked if I was one of them?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I don't take any of his classes,” she confessed, picking at her nails. “I was returning his textbook. We ran into each other and our stuff got mixed up.”

“Oh.”

“I was way late for work anyway,” she smirked. “So I gave him a quick hand job.”

“You're hilarious,” he said with a snort. “Can we stop talking about Professor Ren? He leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Oh really?”

“Poor choice of words,” he said, humored.

“Wanna watch Netflix?” Rey grabbed her remote and turned on her TV.

“I've got a Hulu account you could use.”

Rey smiled in thanks and leaned back on her couch, her shoulder brushing against his.

\---

_You can do this._

She survived a gut-wrenching week of working with Poe. Reserved was not what she'd use to describe him, but he walked on eggshells around her. Gone were the casual touches and flirty remarks, replaced with soft smiles and friendly greetings.

Saddened by the going out of business sign, Rey steeled herself and used her keys to unlock the door. She'd agreed to the deal yesterday and Poe hugged her fiercely before stuttering an apology and moving away as if she'd burned him.

He called his friend and they arranged to have her sign a few things at the shop.

“Poe?” She called out and heard him answer from the back office. Looking around one final time at the lobby, Rey made her way to him.

“Hey,” Poe greeted. “You look… nice.” The blatant once over he gave her set her heart racing.

“Oh, uh,” she glanced down, hand flaring out the skirt of her simple dress. “Finn and I are going to the movies later.”

“Finn, hmm?” He nodded. “I've got to meet the guy who can get my Rey to dress up.” He stood and walked around her, appraising her outfit.

“Okay, dad,” she rolled her eyes.

“Sugar daddy to you,” he whispered in her ear. He caught her sharp intake of breath and cursed. “Sorry, that was… inappropriate.”

_Okay, like, seriously? I'm going to take over if you don't pounce on him. Right now. You, him, on the desk. A lot more making out and a lot less clothes._

“'S'fine,” she said, moving away and sitting at the extra chair. She primly arranged her dress on her knees.

Poe leaned against the front of the desk, arms crossed. “Ben should be here any minute.”

Ben? Where had she heard that name before? “So you've known him for a while?” She asked.

“Way back,” he replied. “Grew up together, went to school, roommates for a bit. The whole nine yards.”

“And how did he end up owing you a favor?”

“Uh, well,” Poe scratched the back of his head. “I helped him through a rough patch in his life. It's kind of personal.”

“I didn't mean to pry.”

“Don't worry about it,” he smiled, waving away her concern. “He was changing careers and he made a dumb rookie mistake.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Young, dumb and in love, you know.”

“Oh, you helped him through a bad break up then?”

Poe shrugged, “You could say that.”

“Hello? Anyone here?” Footsteps echoed the hallway. “The door was open, so I let myself in…”

Rey looked up at the newcomer and shock didn't even cover the emotions she was feeling. Judging by Professor Ren's expression, he felt the same way.

“Ben!” Poe sprang up and shook the man's hand, pulling him into a hug and clapping his back. The professor, Ben ( _whoever he was_ ), kept his gaze on her. “This is Rey,” Poe gestured toward her. “The girl I've been telling you about.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Professor Ren nodded, holding out his hand.

_Dear God, please send your finest lightning bolt to strike me dead. Amen._

Rey stood and weakly shook his hand. “Likewise,” she mumbled.

“Should we get started?” Poe rubbed his hands together.

“Of course,” Ben ( _what the fuck am I supposed to call you_ ) replied evenly and set his briefcase down on the desk, opening the locks with a clack. “I've drafted a contract for you two to sign, backdated to the time requested.” He brought out a few papers. “Once complete, I'll submit it and you'll reap the benefits, as it were.”

Rey didn't appreciate his tone. _I will reap a fist to his goddamn beautiful face._

“Is this legal?” She asked, licking her lips. “I don't want any of us ( _you, maybe_ ) to get into trouble.”

“Not to worry, Rey,” he smiled, emphasizing her name. “Provided that no parties are hurt in the act of signing this contract and what it states are true as of its date, then it's all a matter of common business practices. Albeit a little unorthodox, given its length of time.” He turned to Poe. “It is true, correct?”

“Yeah, of course it is,” Poe answered, sidling over to Rey and wrapping an arm around her waist. “She practically runs the place.”

Professor Ben ( _i give up_ ) face pinched slightly at their closeness but he nodded. “All right,” he began explaining the contract in excruciating detail, remarking where to sign and initial.

High above, the gods of Karma and Famous Last Words rolled around in the clouds, laughing uproariously.

\---

If Rey heard one more “sign here" or “initial there”, it'll be too soon. She stretched the cramped muscles in her hand, groaning as the joints popped.

She waited outside the coffee shop for Finn to pick her up, leaving the two men to reminisce about the old days. She could barely process what happened; the series of events that lead her to this point. Was this some sort of cosmic joke? Did she wrong someone in another life?

Even more shocking, Professor Ren was Ben Solo. Former model turned instructor. What the ever loving fuck?

Finn pulled up in his car, drawing his sunglasses down with a whistle. “Hey, babe, need a lift?”

She giggled and opened the passenger door, sliding in demurely to keep her dress from exposing herself. “Yeah, take me wherever, hot stuff.”

He revved up the engine and peeled out, earning him a shriek.

\---

Professor Ren and Poe watched them leave from behind the tinted windows of the shop. Their stances mirrored each other, feet shoulder width apart with arms crossed.

“I guess that's Finn,” Poe muttered.

“Hmm,” drawled the taller man. “So she turned you down?”

“Not so much as turned me down as put up a roadblock,” he lamented with a sigh. “I thought she was into me, but maybe I've been reading her wrong this whole time. I feel like an idiot.”

“Girls like her feed off the attention,” his friend noted. “She's played you and now that she's set…”

“Hey, no,” Poe said angrily. “You don't know Rey. She's a good kid and she's been through a lot.”

“I know, you've told me her sad story.” Foster homes during her childhood, never knowing who her real parents were, homeless at fourteen, and somehow her indomitable spirit kept her from breaking. He'd admire her if he wasn't worried about his friend.

“Then don't talk crap about her. It pisses me off,” he hissed. “She didn't try to kill me to get what she wanted. She didn't even want the money, I had to fucking lie to her.” He spat out a curse. “But if she's happy, then I am too.”

“Don't ever mention that to me again,” Professor Ren huffed.

“Look, I'm sorry, Ben,” he apologized, scratching his head. “That was poor form, but sometimes you make people want to punch you in the face.”

“I've noticed,” he smirked, thinking of the fiery girl in the simple flowing dress.

“So how long until the check processes?” Poe interrupted his reverie.

“My mother's taking care of the details,” Ben answered. “She'll ensure the trust fund is contacted and the monies moved into Rey's name.”

“Do you think she'll find out?”

“If you've done your job right, then no.”

Poe bit his lip, “I feel like I should tell her though.”

“Don't. Her family's dead and gone. It would only bring her pain to mourn people she never knew.”

“You know, I hate it when you're right.”

They moved away from the windows and returned to the back office.

“What are you going to do now?” Ben asked, sitting at the extra chair.

“I don't know. Take a vacation,” Poe said, sliding into the other with a groan. “Maybe I'll open another coffee shop,” he winked.

“You hate coffee,” he laughed.

“Yeah, but I liked working with Rey.”

“Poe,” he warned.

“Who's to say it will work out with Finn anyway,” Poe continued, ignoring the quirk of his friend’s brow. “He seems nice, but I'm a hell of a lot cuter.”

Optimism was a fucking jealous bitch sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not usually this verbose in my stories, but this came out after "Conversationally, he's handsome" popped into my head.
> 
> It started out a little different at first, but then I thought of those wonderful College/Coffee Shop AUs. Everything else sailed smoothly from there. Let me know what you think or don't. As always...
> 
> ...thank you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of chapter one.

Hmm.

This worked out well.

Not.

Laying in the cold snow and watching the girl run to the filthy Traitor, Kylo contemplated where it all went wrong.

Was it the forests of Takodana?

Yes, definitely. The droid had the information and would have been easily infiltrated for it. But, no. They… he had to go for the girl.

Mm, maybe before that. Go darkside and all that crap.

The chasm between them yawned wider. Earth and trees tumbling into the molten core of the planet. Ah, warmth. It's lava, but the radiant heat felt good.

I should probably get up, he thought as he set his head back on a snow-covered rock. He closed his eyes.

Admiral Hux stood over him. “Well, Ren,” he clasped his hands behind his back. Unconcerned by the growing quakes surrounding them. “Seems as if you’re in a bit of a bind.”

Kylo blinked one eye open. “Go away.”

“I would love nothing more,” he flailed a bit as the ground shook, then straightened. “Than to leave you here to die.”

Pause for dramatic effect, Kylo sneered inwardly.

“But Snoke asked me to fetch you so that he may complete your training.”

He lifted an arm and swirled a finger in the air. “Yay.”

“Be serious,” the admiral hissed.

“I'm really serious about letting this planet blow us to kingdom come,” he said, resting his hands on his belly. “Keep talking.”

“You idiot!” He waved a few troopers over. “Pick him up, none too gently if you please.”

“Does anyone know where my helmet went?” Kylo groaned as four sets of hands lifted him up. “I think I left it back there. Hux, could you get it?”

The admiral started moving back toward the base before growling, “I'm not your mother.”

“Of course not,” he snickered. “I wouldn't do this if you were.”

“Do wha—urk!”

It's difficult to control four people, ensuring they maintain their grip on him, while simultaneously Force-choking the life out of a fifth. But Kylo was no youngling and even then he commanded more power in his pinky than anyone dared dream of. Uncle Luke saw to it that he remained focused. Snoke taught him manipulation well. He relished the man's eyes enlarging, tongue wagging and fingers feebly clawing at the imaginary hands crushing his windpipe.

“Hux, thank you for coming to get me,” he gritted out. “I sincerely apologize for leaving you here to die.”

It was more than what his father was given. And he'd birthed him. Well, not him, per se. His mother. You know what he meant.

“Ssnoke, huk, will f-find you.”

Kylo released his hold and Hux dropped to his knees, coughing. A twinge of the Force and he was out like a light, falling ungracefully on his face, rear end sticking up.

He chortled. What better way for the man to die.

The earth shook harder, nearly unbalancing the four troopers holding him aloft. “You may let me go.”

“We will let you go,” their voices said in chorus.

Oh, shit. Perhaps he should have thought this—ah, gah!

They dropped him and he curled in a fetal position at the pain. All right, so he probably deserved that. He stood, using one of the trooper's shoulder to lean on. “Where's the shuttle?”

Four blank masks stared at him.

Sigh.

“Show me the shuttle.”

“We will show you the shuttle.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Oh, now this was starting to become eerie.

He glanced back, past the chasm, toward where the girl had run off. Look at me, he commanded through the Force. I will come for you.

He felt her look back and the shiver race up her spine.

He grinned, hobbling with assistance to the waiting shuttle. “So… what're your names?”

“JB-007,” the trooper he'd used to help him stand intoned.

“You're the one who released the girl?”

“Uh, no?”

“It's all right,” Kylo smirked.

“It is?”

“Well, no, you let my future girlfriend-slash-wife go free, but I'm learning to be magnanimous.”

“O-kay.”

“I shall call you Jib from now on.”

“That's a terrible name.”

“I know. I said I was learning.”

They left the planet as it became a new star.

A new hope born from destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know. This popped up this morning. Short, sweet, and stupid.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	6. that girl is a real crowd pleaser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're in the Army now.

“Barrel!”

Solo looks up to see the Brigade Run converge and bulge, before the formation of runners part at the obstruction in the road, chants of “barrel” and “watch out” echoing throughout. The mass of bodies is difficult to see through but the sound of someone hitting the barrel and cursing carries beyond the crowd. He glances at the First Sergeant and Dameron behind him, the latter shrugging at the scene.

It’s not uncommon for the run to be disorganized. Route changes are the norm but even then the barrel shouldn’t have been encountered, especially so close to the end stage. Someone at the head, read the colonel, must’ve decided to cut across the intersection instead of taking the route that would lead them through the large parking lot that straddles the buildings of Headquarters Company and Brigade Command. They’re at least a mile from the finish and now it appears the formation will end up on the road behind the infantry battalion’s barracks. Which makes sense, the road is straight and can better accommodate the three thousand personnel with a nice little rise from where the sidewalk is for the colonel to stand on and congratulate them on a good run.

Solo’s glad to be leading the begrudging First Sergeant after his recent collapse during a field training exercise, because the change in course would mean extra time added to walk back to his barracks after the colonel’s speech. The man grunts at him to continue on the original route, grumbling about the chaotic positioning of soldiers as they try to get back into order.

Dameron huffs out a laugh, “Getting tired, First Sergeant?”

“Tired of that fucking speech,” First Sergeant replies. “Same stupid thing he says at every run.”

“If you–hey, what’s that?” Dameron exclaims, pointing to a huddled form on the road.

The three of them stop, staring at what appears to be a female crouched down, hands clasped protectively over her head and knees tucked under her chest. She must’ve been the one to trip over the barrel. Solo is the first to break his confusion and jogs over to check on her well-being.

“You all right?” He asks, bending down to lay a hand on her back. There’s a shoe print on her shirt and suddenly he’s angry at the entire brigade for leaving her behind in this state. Pure rage simmering for the one who’s used her as a springboard to vault over the barrel rocking on its side nearby. If he ever finds out who it is, there’d be some payback coming their way.

She peeks out from her position. “Is it over?”

“Yeah,” he nods, sweeping his hand up and down the back of her shirt to rub the mark out. “Are you okay though?”

“Never better,” she chirps and sits up, dusting off the gravel embedded in her palms with a grimace. “That barrel came out of nowhere.”

The female is pretty, he's startled to discover. Stunning hazel eyes, pink lips and a splash of freckles across her nose. She's button cute is what comes to mind. Her brown hair is in an odd arrangement of three linear buns down the back of her head. All the better to keep it out of her gorgeous face, he figures.

“Take her to the med station,” First Sergeant commands. He stands next to Solo, hands on his hips, looking down at the female with his mouth drawn thin. Even coming from an older generation when females are considered a novelty in the military, he's a firm believer of leaving no one behind. “Dameron and I will go back to headquarters. I'm gonna shake some shit up with this asinine run.”

“I'm fine,” she says with a shake of her head. “Really.” She stands quickly to show that she is, tottering on shaky legs. Solo grips her arm to keep her from falling over.

“You're bleeding,” Dameron comments, gesturing to her legs.

“Yeah, I, um,” she looks down at her scraped knees, “kind of hit the ground hard. But I should go catch up.”

“Hit your head too if you think that's going to happen,” Solo says, pulling her back when she starts to take a step. Blood drips down her legs and stains her white socks. Running isn't going to pleasant for her with her knees torn up like that.

She wrenches her arm out of his grip. “Don't manhandle me, you jerk.”

The First Sergeant laughs and thumps Dameron hard on the back, “Let's go, hotshot. I've got some people to yell at. Caveman can handle the spitfire.”

They run off, leaving Solo with the irate female glaring daggers at him.

Great, he thinks, more nicknames for him added to the old coot's repertoire. He can barely keep the others in track. “Come on. The med station isn't far.” When she doesn't move, he sighs. “I'll carry you if I have to.”

She limps forward with a pained expression, keeping an arm’s length away from him. “I bet you'd like that.”

“Not really,” he says, slowing his pace to match hers. “It's about two blocks away still and you look heavy.”

“Wow, you're a sweet talker. How did I get so lucky to meet you?”

“Blame it on the barrel.”

She hums in agreement and they walk in silence the rest of the way. He would've left her at the entrance, if, and isn't his life just filled with “ifs,” the building hadn’t been closed.

“Well this sucks,” she groans and crosses her arms. “Kenobi.”

Distracted by his thoughts on what to do now, he barely registers what she's said. “What? Who's that?”

“Me,” she laughs, pointing to herself.

“Oh,” he nods. His eyes narrow, staring hard at the door as if it would answer all life's questions.

“And you are?” She makes a rolling gesture with her hand toward him.

“Solo.” He worries his bottom lip with his teeth. It wouldn't hurt to ask, though it might earn him a slap. Her knees need to get cleaned up and bandaged. And he has a perfectly well-stocked first aid kit in his room.

“It's so weird to introduce yourself with your last name, isn't it?” She laughs again. “I mean, before the Army, I would say my first name.”

“Weird,” he agrees.

He would have to touch her, on her bare legs, in order to clean the blood drying on her skin. But then, she seems capable. Why should he do all the work? It's only her knees that are messed up, not her hands. Maybe he could give her the kit and let her do it. But she did fall on her hands as well. They might need to be assessed for damage or cuts or something. It's not as if he'd have to take off her clothes. She can take them off by herself.

Where the hell did that train of thought come from?

“And then, you would say yours and we'd have a riveting conversation instead of this one. Where it’s one-sided. Because you're staring at the door, like you're trying to open it with your mind.”

“Do you want to come to my room?” Her mouth drops open at his blatant question and he flounders for a second. That didn't come out right. “I have a first aid kit. With bandages. And antibiotic cream. For your knees.”

Kenobi blinks rapidly before recovering, closing her mouth with a clack of her teeth. “Um, oh-kay.”

Solo does an about face and walks quickly toward his barracks. He's too embarrassed to check if she's following. Her hiss of pain has him slowing down so that she could catch up alongside him.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“For the come on or for generally being a jerk?"

“It wasn't a come on,” he defends. “I was thinking about your legs.” Is he on fire? Because his entire body feels hot. “I meant, your knees.”

“You could carry me,” she giggles. “But I don't want to weigh you down with my fat ass.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “I'm sorry for both.”

“Don't worry about it,” she waves her hand dismissively. “I'm sure you didn't mean it.”

“Oh no, I meant the fat ass part,” he smirks. “It's the other stuff I'm apologizing for.”

“Jerk,” she says, pushing him off the sidewalk. He stumbles into the grass in surprise. She's stronger than she looks.

He bumps her shoulder as he steps back onto the concrete. The walk to the barracks degenerates into a shoving match between the two of them. By the time they make it to his door, they're panting and red-faced. He has a welt on his arm from a vicious pinch delivered by her small fingers and she's sporting grass stains on her butt.

Kenobi hovers at the doorway when he opens his room and he quickly retrieves the first aid kit stashed in his bathroom. “Here,” he says, jamming the box into her hands. “Let me know if you need help.”

He cringes. Why does he keep opening his big mouth?

“Thanks,” she grins. “I'll bring this back later.”

“You can keep it.”

She clutches it to her chest and sighs dramatically. “I'll treasure it always.”

“Ha-ha,” he replies. “Okay, well, I've got to get ready.”

“Do you eat lunch?” She blurts before he could close the door.

Solo leans on the jamb, trying to appear casual. “Why? Are you asking me out?”

“No.” Her blush is adorable. “I'm asking if we could sync our eating habits sometime today. Like around noon.”

“In that case, yeah. I'll be at the motor pool by then.”

“Great. I'll see you there.”

“Okay.” He closes the door slowly. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

The last thing he sees is her tapping her forehead repeatedly with the first aid kit, chanting "idiot", as she walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat based on a real event that happened to me at my first duty station, except I didn't get rescued by Ben Solo. The First Sergeant did and he was a nice, old coot that had so many nicknames for us secret squirrels. But I fucked up my knees worse and it's probably why I hate running. Seriously, that barrel came out of nowhere.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. don't they always start like this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like she's in a bad porno. All they need is for him to drop his towel and more innuendo-laced puns.

“You're not Plutt,” the tall, dripping wet, man answers at her knock. His hand grips the towel wrapped around his waist tighter when it slips down in his shock at seeing her instead of his building super.

When Plutt had called her to deal with a troublesome tenant bitching about his plumbing, she'd imagined some harpy woman not a dark-haired Adonis. Why is he so wet? Did he leap out of the still-running shower to answer the door? She's never been so jealous of drops of water. Getting to run down his broad, defined chest and slipping further down his abdominals. Cheeky bastards.

“Ah, no,” she replies. “I'm Rey. The plumber? You need me to look at your pipes?”

Her cheeks burn. Maker, what a dumb thing to say.

The man blushes too, but he steps back to let her inside his apartment. “Yeah, um,” he runs a hand through his soaking hair, “Yeah. Pipes.”

“Sink or toilet?” She stands at the entryway and looks at everything but him. That's a nice chest… of drawers! Over there. Well-built. Sturdy. He has a nicely furnished apartment. Really nice. Very nice. More than nice. Her gaze slinks back to his chest, drifting lazily up to his shoulders, and finally landing on his face.

Gods, why isn't he saying anything? Did she say something? Oh god, what if she's broadcasting her salacious thoughts about him through her runaway mouth?

But it's been blessedly silent for the few seconds he's been staring at her. Feeling nervous, she wants to fill the quiet with noise just to break the tension.

She bites her tongue.

“Sink?” He sounds confused for a moment before shaking his head, spraying droplets of water on her. “Sorry,” his hand, the one not holding the towel sadly, reaches out toward her, thinks better of it and drops back to his side, “The sink.”

“Kitchen or bathroom?”

“Kitchen.”

She nods once. This she can handle, definitely more so than an attractive, half-naked man dripping all over his hardwood floors. Rey walks toward the kitchen, setting down her tools, and squats before the cabinets leading to the underside of the sink. The man hovers beside her.

She's in direct eyeline with his crotch. _If!_ She turns her head. Which she won't, because she has work to do. Opening the doors, she finds that he's attempted to fix the problem himself. The trap lies uselessly on its side, along with the couplings and gaskets strewn about.

“I thought some stuff was stuck in the thing,” he explains with a fluttering gesture of his hand.

“Are all the parts here,” she asks his crotch. Her neck twinges at the quickness she brings her eyes up to meet his. “Uh, I need to know in case there's something missing.”

“No, um, yes, it's all there.” His head bobs. “Nothing missing.”

It's like she's in a bad porno. All they need is for him to drop his towel and more innuendo-laced puns. Mind out of the gutter, Rey. We are not in a porno and we are not going to remember the wet, godly man from apartment three-twelve in the future. For any reason. Unless you need material for your sexual fantasies, you perv. Then that's fine.

“Okay! Right, uh, I'll just get to work then.” She shoves half her body inside in order to get away from the temptation in a towel. “Carry on, like I'm not here.”

“I was showering…”

“I can tell.” For the love of heaven, why is she continuing to talk? Getting on her back, she blindly reaches for her tools and drags them closer. “So…”

Rey lets the word hang limply in the air while she uses her wrench to bang on the pipe leading up to the sink. It's only to make him aware that she's busy doing her job and not trying to look up his towel. She's in a bad position to do so anyway. It’s too long. He'd have to be standing right over her for that.

“Fuck!”

“Everything okay?” He asks, bending down to peer at her.

“Hit my head.” She laughs. It comes out as a giggle, making her sound girlish and stupid. “You know, dangers of the job.”

“You must be good with your hands,” she catches the cringe in his expression. “To, um, be a plumber? Yeah?”

“I like doing things with my hands.” One hole, if you please, to swallow her up. She decides to nip this awkward conversation in the bud. “So if you'll let me finish, I'll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Oh.” He stands, fidgets in place, and then turns away. “Right. Sorry. I'll be in the shower… uh, bathroom. Getting dressed. You don't need to know that, huh. I'll be around if you need me. Anything! If you need anything. Okay. I'm going.”

Her lips press into a thin line to keep from apologizing or worse. She doesn't want to think about worse. Because it doesn't sound all that bad in her head. She waits until his footsteps recede before she gets to work.

A half hour later, Rey emerges from below the sink. It’d taken her that long to muster up the courage to decide on what to do with his plumbing issue.

“Hello?” She calls out. “I found the problem.”

“Already?” he says, coming out from the bedroom. Fully dressed, thank goodness. Still attractive though, in a smart business suit. He's pinning on cufflinks, but focusing his beautiful golden brown eyes on her. “I thought it’d be longer.”

“Well, uh, you have a crack in your pipe. Trap, I mean.” She sighs and swipes her forearm across her brow. “I'm going to have to replace it.”

“So you'll be back?”

“Yes, but if you have somewhere to be, I can ask Plutt to let me in. If that's okay with you?”

“I can wait,” he replies quickly, then clears his throat. “I mean, I was going to go to a meeting, but, um, if you’re not going to be long?”

“It might be an hour—”

“That's fine.”

“It seems like an important meeting if you're dressed like that.”

“Huh?” He looks down at himself. “Oh. To be honest,” his shoulders sag, “It's a date. A blind date. My friends think I should get out more.”

“Good friends,” she smiles.

“I'd rather be here with you…” He looks away, blushing adorably. “To make sure the job’s done.” He waves his hands in a defensive gesture. “Not that I don't think you can't do it, because you're a woman or anything.”

Rey crosses her arms and huffs, “It's fine, I'm used to it.”

“No, please,” he steps toward her. “I didn't mean to insult you. I'll, uh, call and reschedule the date. Okay? Just wait here.”

He half turns but she stops him with ice in her voice. “Look, Mister…?”

“Ben, Ben Solo.”

“Look, Mr. Solo, I'm going to leave, get you a new trap, fix your dumb sink and then never see you again. So whatever you think of me, I don't care. Just let me do my job.”

“All right,” he says, digging his hands into his pockets and looking as if she'd kicked a puppy in front of him.

She collects her tools and heads to his front door. “I suggest you go on your date. Women don't like to be stood up for a plumber like me.”

\---

“I still get my discount, right?” The blob known as Unkar Plutt wheezes as he leads her back to Mr. Solo’s apartment. “I send business your way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grunts with a roll of her eyes. “Hurry it up, will you?”

“Something happen with him?” He gropes for the keys hanging off his substantial girth. “He's a prissy sort, always complaining.”

“No, nothing happened.” She switches her tools to the other hand, annoyance in her tone. “I've got other places to be.”

“Eh?” He gapes at her. “Two-timing me, little one?”

Gross. She nearly gags at the sight of his large tongue rolling out of his mouth to lick his lips. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how she would look back on this later, Mr. Solo's door opens in time for the man himself see to Plutt staring at her lewdly and the expression of utter disgust on her face.

Mr. Solo glances between the both of them, barely controlled rage for the troll that is his super and a brightness in his eyes at seeing her. “You're back,” he says with a grin, ignoring Plutt.

“I have to fix your sink,” she replies as she shoulders past the men into the apartment.

The quicker she's done, the faster she can get away from the uncomfortable sensation in her belly at seeing him again. She tells herself it’s uncomfortable, because, well, it just is. She doesn't need to explain herself, least of all to her own person. It's her feelings, goddamnit, she knows what's up with her body and emotions. And he makes her feel things she cares not to explore.

“Shouldn't take me longer than a few minutes.”

“Great, I mean,” he closes the door in Plutt's face, “Take your time. No rush.”

“I thought you had a date.” Why is she bringing that up? It's absolutely none of her business.

“Oh, uh,” he follows her into the kitchen, “She wasn't my type.”

“You figured that out in less than an hour?”

“I make really rash decisions.”

Rey turns to face him and gulps at the hungry look in his eyes. “Y-you do?” She stutters out, backing up against the counter. Her tools drop at her feet.

“Yes.” His arms cage her between the counter and his rock-hard… oh dear. And his head dips down to nose at her jaw. “Tell me you want this,” he whispers in her ear.

“Oh god,” she breathes.

Ben pulls back and frowns. “Is that a yes?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I hope I'm not—”

“For God’s sake,” she growls, tugging him down with an arm around his neck. “Shut up and kiss me.”

He obliges with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I stopped it there. I can do sex scenes, but there's a process involved to get into that headspace. Gotta get into the mood and then I have to defile stuffed animals... Don't ask.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. you understand, i've got a plan for us...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...I bet you didn't know someone could love you this much.

Her life is routine.

Wake up. Make breakfast. Check the cellar. Chop firewood. Clean the cabin. Eat a light lunch. Check the cellar. Laundry. Fetch water from the pump. Dinner. Check the cellar. Read a bit. Go to bed.

Rinse and repeat for the next day.

And the next.

On and on until the months fly by without notice.

Then one morning, when she's on the brink of taking her axe and ending it once and for all…

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Rey whirls around from the stump, axe brandished high above her head and a fierce growl in her throat, to find two men standing a few yards away. They're disheveled and look as if they've been traveling through the woods surrounding the cabin for days.

“Please don't kill us,” the darker one pleads as he takes a step forward, hands raised.

“What do you want?” She asks, keeping the axe in a striking pose.

“Do you have water or food?”

“I do,” she replies slowly.

“Can we, if possible…”

“Jesus Christ, Finn.” The second one steps forward, prompting her to raise the axe slightly. He raises his hands in a defensive manner, much like his companion. “We don't want trouble. We just need food and water and then we'll be on our way.”

“How did you find this place?” She inquires with a tilt of her head. “This is private property. No one's…” Rey pauses, tears threatening to cloud her vision. She shakes her head. “No one's been up here in some time.”

“I heard you chopping wood,” Finn answers. “We followed the sound to your cabin. Maybe we could help in trade?”

“I don't need your help,” she responds, lips pressed thin. “But I'll give you food and water—”

“Thank you!”

“Then you leave.”

\---

Rey had forgotten how nice it is to have company. Someone to talk to and cook for. The two men have come from Maine and are heading west to the promise of civilization. The CDC has narrowed down a possible cure. The hope for humanity is on the horizon, according to some people they've run across. She listens to them talk with a keen ear, eager for the hopeful news and the sound of a voice that is not her own for once.

It's been so long since…

“Who's this?” Poe, the other one, asks as he picks up a picture frame set on the coffee table. He's more curious, looking around the cabin as they'd entered, with a discerning eye.

“My husband,” she replies, taking the frame from his hands and placing it back out of reach.

“Is he…?”

“Gone.” She looks away and sniffs.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“You can come with us, Rey,” Finn offers. “We could use the company.”

“Are you saying you're tired of me?” Poe jokes, nudging his friend’s ribs.

“That's exactly what I'm saying,” he laughs.

“I can't.”

The men turn to her in surprise. “But,” Finn begins.

“I can't leave.” Suddenly, she remembers that she hadn’t checked the cellar in a long while. “I need to…” She presses a hand to her forehead. Tired. She's so tired. “I'll be right back. Stay here.”

\---

When Rey returns, Poe is moving about the living room, inspecting the pictures on the fireplace mantle and fingering the knickknacks with a light touch. Finn still sits on the couch, munching on a handful of cookies she'd baked on a whim the other day, with a concerned expression.

“What're you doing?”

“I'm sorry,” Poe answers. “I was just… How long has it been?”

She doesn't know how to answer that question. Time is immeasurable here in this cabin. Days? Months? Centuries? She feels older than her twenty-four years. Too young, yet…

“A few days after,” she gestures futilely with her hands. “It didn't take long.” Or maybe it did. He had still been coherent just before…

And then, in a split second, he'd become someone else. Something else.

She sobs, sucking in huge gulps of air. Finn stands and wraps comforting arms around her. “You did the right thing,” he soothes.

Did she?

“What was his name?”

“Ben.”

His name conjures up more tears and Finn lets them wet his shirt.

\---

Rey allows them to stay the night. It's the least she can do against the false promise to think about going with them in the morning.

She can't leave.

Surely they know that. The cabin had been their first home.

She can't leave.

\---

“I'm telling you,” Poe whispers to Finn, “There's something weird about this place.”

“You say that about every place we've been to,” Finn replies.

“Did you notice that there’s no animals around?”

“Maybe she hunts. A lot.”

“How many times did she get up to leave? Where does she go?”

“Maybe she's got a small bladder. Hey,” Finn hisses in alarm as Poe gets up from his bed. “Where are you going?”

“Checking things out.” Poe turns to his friend. “She's hiding something.”

“It's none of our business,” Finn says, though he rises from his bed as well. “She's a widow. Geez, have some heart. She probably had to blow his brains out.”

“I feel sorry for her, but whatever secret she's hiding, maybe we can use it to convince her to come with us.”

“That's low.”

“She can't stay here, Finn.” Poe places a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll go crazy, if she isn't halfway there already. Did you see how happy she was to talk to someone?”

“Yeah,” Finn nods. “All right, but let's be careful.”

“Don't worry,” Poe smiles. “I'll protect you.”

\---

The entrance to the cellar is in the kitchen and for the most part a non-descript door.

“Look at this,” Poe peers at the frame and runs a hand against the door. “Solid steel.” He taps it lightly, cringing at the echoing sound.

“Sshh,” Finn hisses. “Neat. A door. Okay, let’s go back to bed.”

“What's in here?” Poe wonders aloud and tries the knob. The door opens with an ominous groan.

“Maybe her and her husband robbed Fort Knox after the virus started and she's now the richest woman in the world. C'mon. I, I've got a bad feeling about this.”

“No point in sitting on a shit ton of gold if she can't spend it. Where's your sense of adventure?”

“Sleeping, like we should be doing.”

“You're no fun, Finn.” Poe shines the flashlight down the stairway. “Stairs.”

“Your observation skills are still top-notch.”

“Shut up. Let's go.”

“What? Where?” Finn panics as Poe descends, leaving him in the darkened kitchen. “Goddamnit.”

\---

The cellar had housed several shelves filled with jams and preserved foods. One corner held drying and salted meats, which prompted Finn to nudge Poe. “See? Hunting. She hunts.”

“Pfft,” Poe responds childishly. “You don't put a steel door on your foodstuffs.”

“Unless you think someone's going to come around and take it.”

“You're too nice,” Poe sighs. “Not everyone is going to be like you.”

They explore the cellar further and come upon another door. Steel, like the entrance, but with a bar going across it.

“What's in door number two?” Poe jokes.

“Sshh, do you hear that?” Finn stills as he presses an ear on the surface. “Sounds like… moaning.”

“Let's find out.”

“Poe. Don't. Let's leave.” Finn stands back, shivering. “I don't, please, I think…”

Poe lifts the heavy bar and opens the door, stepping inside. The darkness of the room engulfs him. It's all Finn can do but swallow his fear and follow. They've been together through thick and thin. Two of the so few in the human population immune to the virus. If the disease didn't kill outright, it mutates the rest into flesh-eating zombies. Their humanity disappearing to be replaced with a never-ending hunger.

“Oh my god!” Poe screams. “Finn! Hel-aagghh!”

“Poe!”

He tries to locate the bobbing flashlight. He hears the sound of flesh tearing and a wet gurgling, as if Poe is choking on water. But Finn knows better. A growl comes from behind him. He turns around. Slips and falls on what he's sure is Poe's blood. He sobs at the feel of a strong hand gripping his ankle and pulling him back.

Into the darkness.

Finn looks up. The door is open. A figure stands before him. He's so close. Claws forward for freedom. Toward safety.

“Please,” he begs, one hand raised beseechingly. “Please.”

Rey blocks the door, grim and unfeeling. “I see you found my husband.”

\---

Ben had started to show symptoms right away. It didn't take him long to make plans for her. Without him.

“When I turn,” he coughs blood into his hand. With a grimace, he wipes it on his shirt. “You kill me okay?”

She can't believe he would tell her that. They've only been married a year. It's not possible. Maybe it's just the flu. She refuses to think it's anything else but that.

“Rey,” he grips her shoulders and shakes her roughly. “Do you understand?”

“I can't.” She starts to cry. It seems to be the only thing she can do. “Don't ask me to do that.”

“I don't want to hurt you. When I turn, I won't be myself anymore. I won't care.”

“Ben, please. We can go to the CDC. Maybe they can study you. Find a cure.”

“It’ll be too late.” He shakes her again, as if the action would shake sense into her. “I don't want to risk it. I can't… if they find a cure and I've, I've hurt you or worse. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Promise me, Rey.”

“I…”

“Rey, promise me.”

“Yes, I, I promise.”

“There's my girl.” He hugs her hard and fierce. Presses a kiss into her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The virus had ravaged his body and mind, until he's near crazed and delirious. Three days later, he's gone.

At first, she tries to live up to her promise. Holds the shotgun against his head as the last of his breath leaves him. Any minute, his eyes will open. But Ben won't be the one looking at her. Instead, it'll be a monster. Her hands shake. Her vision blurs. She wipes furiously at the tears gathering in her eyes. She can do this.

She'd promised him.

When he opens his eyes, Rey is no longer there. Hidden up in a tree, she observes his plodding gait as he stumbles around the cabin, sniffing the air to catch her scent. Her mouth opens to call to him, but no sound comes out of her throat.

Not-Ben eventually leaves. Rey muffles her cries in the crook of her arm. “I'm sorry. I couldn't… I'm so sorry.”

She stays in the tree until nightfall.

He returns just as she feels safe enough to climb down. Her heart beats erratically. Is he searching for her still? Ben had been right. He wouldn't care who she is to him anymore. She should've…

Not-Ben stands motionless at the door, swaying. Waiting. His head tilts. He paws at the wood. “Gggrr-eeeyyy…”

He turns away, back into the woods.

\---

A few days more and she realizes he wouldn't hurt her. It had taken him catching her unaware at the water pump, her throat parched and scratchy. She'd been careful to come down from the tree when he leaves and rushing back up at the slightest noise.

He had stood closer than Finn and Poe had been. Her stomach had clenched. This is it. The result of her broken promise and now she would pay for her mistake.

Not-Ben observes her, head tilted in curiosity.

“Ben?” Rey claps a hand over her mouth.

His brows lift. His eyes are red-rimmed. His dark hair is matted with leaves and twigs. His clothes are ragged and ripped. He looks the same, only dirty really.

She backs away a step and he comes forward.

“I'm, I'm sorry, Ben,” she stammers, retreating until the cabin stops her. She's trapped now by his body and her incompetence. “I couldn't do it. Please understand.”

“Ggrreeyy,” he growls.

“Yes,” she nods. “It's me. Rey. Do you remember?”

He lifts a finger to track the tear running down her cheek. His hand falls limply to his side. For a long moment, they stand there together.

Hope blossoms in that space in time.

Slowly, she raises a hand to pull a leaf out of his hair. “What have you been doing?” She asks with a grin.

He smiles and her heart leaps into her throat. His teeth are covered in blood.

\---

She builds the room for him down in the cellar. Replaces the cellar door with something stronger. It didn’t take much to convince him to stay inside. Perhaps his love for her is bigger than the virus. It's all she can hope for, living on this borrowed time. Waiting for the cure. During the day, she checks on him, talking as she brushes his hair. He appears to enjoy that and rests his head on her lap.

He's never tried to harm her. At night, she lets him out to hunt and eat. He returns dutifully in the morning, scratching at the front door to let him in. He can't talk, even her name is a growl. A vague sound in his throat.

But she'll take it. Anything to have Ben back.

It's unfortunate that Finn and Poe had shown up. Rey didn't want to risk releasing Ben that night. She should've been more careful, she supposes later as she cleans up the mess and buries what remains of their bodies deep in the woods. Ben watches her silently as she works.

When she's finished, she walks back to the cabin.

Her hand reaches out for her husband's…

…she smiles at the feeling of his fingers twitching in her palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> I wrote a zombie fic. Inspired in part by kuresoto's fic Black-Eyed and Dangerous by Big Data.
> 
> Happy way too early Halloween.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	9. your body like a work of art, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same Army universe, alternate path.

He hates needles.

A lot.

And he knows with absolute certainty that they've signed him up for this class because of it. Military hazing is so juvenile that he feels like he's back in high school. He ignores the digs at his nose and ears; laughing along is second nature by now. But this is personal and he's not going to let this go any time soon.

Corporal Solo sits in the back of the room, stuffing his cap in the cargo pocket of his BDU pants. The chair, clearly designed by midgets, is no match for his tall frame and he has to awkwardly contort his legs or risk banging his knees on the underside of the table. He clasps his hands together and bows his head, his mind sifting through various ways of getting revenge.

“Mind if I sit here?”

He looks up to find a young female standing next to the chair beside him, one hand at the back and the other pointing to the seat. He's never seen her before, but then it's hard to keep track of all three thousand personnel in the brigade. She's pretty in an unassuming way: arresting hazel eyes, a splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and dark brown hair done up in a triumvirate of buns lined up in the back of her head. Not a touch of makeup to be seen.

She's trouble with a capital T. He doesn't know how he knows this, but his gut's telling him to watch himself around this female.

“No.” He clears his throat. “Not at all. Be my guest.” His response is cringe-worthy but she smiles and sits.

“Specialist Kenobi,” she says. “Four-twenty-seventh Signal.”

“Corporal Solo,” he replies, pausing for a second. “Headquarters.”

“Oh.” She scrunches her nose. “That's…”

“I know,” he grins to ease her reaction. “We’re a bunch of pogues.”

“I wasn't going to say that,” she insists.

“You were thinking it.”

Her cheeks redden before she asks, “What section?”

“S-2.”

“Oh,” she looks away but he can see her nose turn up again.

“Secret squirrels,” he leans over to whisper at her just as the instructor arrives.

\---

They have fun in the class, Solo and Kenobi. Her sense of humor compliments his; he's never run the risk of offending her. Three days of learning various lifesaving techniques aren't as boring with an entertaining partner.

“You're going to have to stand on a chair to get this right,” he says to her during her Heimlich demonstration.

“Shut up,” she bites from behind him. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she fists one hand below his sternum and covers it with the other. “Jerk upwards, right?”

“Like a violent hug,” he says.

“I was talking about you. Jerk upwards.” She clarifies further, “Because you're tall and a jerk. Get it?”

“Ha-hak!” The hard push from her clasped fists on his stomach takes him by surprise and nearly has him losing his breakfast. She actually manages to lift him off his feet a good inch. “What the hell, Kenobi,” he gripes in between her more subdued maneuvers. “I almost threw up.”

“Oops, I thought you liked it rough.”

He grumbles under his breath.

The next day, he gets her back during the fireman's carry instruction. He lifts her up over his shoulders, one arm between her legs, wrapping it around a thigh, and holding both her wrists in that hand while patting her head with the other. He taunts at her, “You're not afraid of heights, are you?”

She kicks uselessly into his back and he parades her around their table a few times. When he finally puts her down, she's red-faced and swearing.

\---

He's been kind of hoping that they'd gloss over this part, the actual practice of sticking a needle in someone, but the instructor is a stickler for protocol. Oranges are not the same as the real thing apparently. Once they've got the hang of it, the class would move on to administering an IV to a partner.

“Shit,” Kenobi hisses.

Solo glances over at her as she concentrates on the fruit in front of her. The sharp needle in her hand shakes, missing the peel and almost jabbing her fingers in her other hand. Her approach is one of trepidation as if the orange would scream in pain if she makes the wrong move.

“You might want to,” he starts to say, attempting to warn her about the placement of her hand.

“Shut. Up.”

“I'm just trying to—”

“Try to shut up,” she bites, bending over and turning away from him.

“I don't like needles either,” he says to placate her.

Kenobi glares at him from over her shoulder. “I like needles. I love needles. They're my best friends.”

“Hey, what you do in your spare time is none of my business.” Jokes always help him in these kind of situations. And maybe it'll help her relax enough to return to their easy banter.

The glare doubles in intensity. “Then mind your own business, teacher’s pet.”

So what if he's received the approval from the instructor first. The sergeant has been walking around the room as he spoke and the orange is deftly stabbed by his hand by the time the man makes it to their table. It isn't because he's good at it. He just wants the class to be over with already. It's the last instruction before the exam and then the certificates are handed out. Everything else has been cake so far.

Solo keeps the comment about respecting his rank from coming out. They're essentially the same, even if he's considered an NCO, and any further words might antagonize her more. Too bad his brain didn't inform his mouth of this. “Watch your tongue, specialist,” he says. “I could write you up for insubordination.”

It's an empty threat and she more than likely knows it. They've become fast friends. Or so he's thought.

“Jerk,” she mutters, her attention back at her fruit. “Ha! Get some.” The orange is thrust in his face, needle poking out of its skin. “See that, corporal?” His rank is emphasized with a sneer. “That's how you do it.”

“Good job,” the instructor says. “Now we can move on to the IVs.”

They both pale at the statement.

\---

Solo's glad they're partnered together. He's had an inkling that the tables are arranged to sit two a piece for a reason and the sergeant could give two flying fucks as to who your friends are. There’s to be no musical chair shenanigans. “Your partner is your table buddy,” the sergeant states, mouth set in a thin line as he eyes the room. There's a chorus of groans but everyone settles as the equipment is passed out.

Which is what he's about to do when the bags of saline, IV infusion sets, and catheters are placed on the surface.

“Shit,” Kenobi hisses, holding a packaged needle in front of her face and staring at it.

“Looks bigger than the first one,” he remarks about the gauge.

“Yeah,” she breathes. She sets it down and shudders. “Do you mind if I stick you first?”

The corporal thinks about the way she's handled the orange, swallowing hard. “Uh, no, ladies first,” he half laughs, half chokes out.

“Thanks.”

“I won't look.”

She frowns, “You're not worried about what I'll be doing?”

“If I look, I'm going to pass out, so don't miss the vein,” he says. “And if you miss and I start squirting blood, don't tell me. Just press one of the dressings on it.” Her mouth opens, retort dancing on her tongue, but he beats her to the punch. “You spent five minutes sticking that orange, I think I know how this is going to pan out for me.”

She stares at him for a long time, arms crossed and eyes blazing with indignation. “Fine then.” She waves a hand at his chest. “Top off, corporal.”

Solo takes his time unbuttoning his BDU shirt, mostly because his hands are shaking. He doesn't want to do this. He's part of the headquarters company. At what point in his military career is he going to see combat and use his lifesaving techniques on anyone? The hope is never.

He shrugs off the top, turning in his chair to drape it over the back. When he looks at her, her mouth is ajar and her eyes are wide. “What?” He asks, a little concerned.

Kenobi blinks several times then composes herself. “Nothing,” she shrugs. “Didn't think you were hiding, uh, all that under your shirt.”

“Hiding what?” He checks his arms and hands, confused. No tattoos grace his skin, so he isn't sure what she meant.

“Nothing,” she squeaks. “Just sit there and take your stabbing like a man.”

They arrange their chairs into a better position, next to each other in opposite directions. She lays out the items of torture to be used in succession, taking the gloves and snapping the cuffs as she puts them on. “Oh.” A nervous laugh bubbles out of her mouth. “I guess I should have asked which arm you prefer me to mutilate.”

His face is toward the wall, studying a poster of the inside of a human body, so he doesn't see her expression. It's probably similar to his: bloodless and grim. “Doesn't matter. Let's get this over with.”

“Okay.” Her touch is soft as her hands wrap the non-latex tourniquet around his bicep. He flexes his fist to get the vein to pop and she hums in approval, poking the crook of his elbow with a finger. “Nice, big fat one,” she says.

“Yeah, that's what all the ladies tell me,” he snorts.

“I'm sure,” she giggles. Good, if she can still joke like that, then at least she's forgotten about his earlier jibe. “Needle time,” she announces.

Her commentary is completely unnecessary.

He's going to faint; already he feels light-headed and she's only unwrapped the catheter from its package if the crinkling of plastic is any indication. “So, uh, where are you from?” She asks as she leans over to concentrate.

“I don't know,” he answers, flapping his free hand uselessly in the air. All thought processes are halted when her fingers grip his forearm. He knows where he's from, he can't think of it right now. “Um, east coast somewhere.”

“Hmm. Why'd you join the Army?”

“To get away from the rut I was in.”

“Same here,” Kenobi chirps. “You plan on making a career out of it?”

“Maybe, I guess. I haven't thought that through yet.”

“I'm not. Doing my time and getting the fuck out.” She puffs out a breath. “Four years is enough for me. Counting down the months, you know?”

“Oh, well, good luck in the civilian world.”

“Thanks.” Kenobi sits up straight. “Ta da!” She exclaims, pulling off the tourniquet with a flourish. “All done.”

“Huh?”

Solo looks down at his arm, realizes that yes, she’s managed to stick him with the huge needle with no pain whatsoever. She's a natural, he marvels. Before the sight could make him ill, he focuses on her face and grins at her. “Kenobi, if I ever need someone to jab me with something sharp, I'll go straight to you.”

“Thank you, corporal,” she says with her own smile. The bag of saline is held up high and she gives it a squeeze. “You’re the best voodoo doll ever.”

“Funny,” he smirks.

The instructor comes around to check her work and nods. “Good job. Five minutes on the solution and then switch.”

“Shit.”

\---

Kenobi is pale and steadily becoming paler as he readies the instruments. “Where are you from?” He asks, copying her method in getting his mind away from what she'd been doing.

“Arizona,” she wheezes.

“I went to AIT there. Fort Huachuca.”

“Congratulations. You want a medal?”

“No.” He purses his lips. “Don't look.”

“Why?” Her voice rises in alarm. She flinches when he ties the tourniquet. “What're you doing?”

“I'm getting ready to—”

“Don't tell me!”

He jerks back in surprise and glances around the room. A few are looking their way in curiosity, the rest are focused on their own partners. “Ssh. Ah, where in Arizona?”

“What?” Her gaze won't move from her arm, eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. “Glendale.”

“I have an uncle that lives there. It's three hours from Fort Huachuca,” he muses.

“Why do you keep talking about Fort Fucking Huachuca?”

Solo huffs, setting aside the package from the catheter. “I'm trying to get your mind off what's going on, like you did with me. Jesus, take a pill.”

“I'm sorry,” Kenobi blurts, her voice watery. “I hate needles.”

“I thought they were your best friends.”

“Fuckers never did anything for me.”

“Yeah, they make shitty friends.”

He grasps her forearm, stroking her arm with his thumb. Swipes the alcoholic swab at the blue vein beneath her skin. “Ready?”

“If I say no, are you going to stop?”

“Maybe?” He shrugs. “But I'd like to pass this dumb class.”

“Get some then,” she nods.

“That's a very inappropriate phrase,” he says, bending over her arm.

“I'm in a unit with only two other females.”

“Ah.”

He starts to bring the needle closer but the abrupt scream from Kenobi makes his stomach bottom out. Poised centimeters from the crook of her elbow, he stops and holds up the catheter. Stares at it like it's offended him; his brows furrow and the corners of his mouth draw down. He hasn't even broken through her skin yet and she's screaming as if he's repeatedly stabbing her.

“What's going on?”

Solo sets the unused needle down on the table and gestures at her untouched vein. “I didn't do anything.”

The crazy, possibly psychotic, specialist gulps down a breath. “I'm okay.”

“Really?” An incredulous look is thrown her way. “Because you sound like you're being murdered.”

“Can I have another partner?” The corporal pleads. “She's not handling this very well.”

“Hey!”

“No and no more screaming.” Two fingers splay out at them before moving toward his eyes. “Watching you,” the sergeant says and stalks back around the room. “Troublemakers.”

“I'm really fine,” she hisses when they're alone.

“Yeah?” She's struggling not to bolt from the chair. Her hands grip the armrest with white knuckles and her knees bounce rapidly. Feeling pity for her, he sets the catheter down on the table. “Kenobi, relax,” he says, keeping his voice in a soothing timber. His thumb strokes her skin rhythmically. “You're doing great. One little prick won't hurt you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Where have I heard that one before?”

He doesn't fight the laugh, letting it tumble from his belly. She gifts him with a wavering smile. “There, now don't think about it and let me do this so I can get my lame certificate. Then we won't have to see each other ever again.”

“I wouldn't mind.” She turns her face away, blushing. “Seeing you again.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

If he counts the woman who's declared they see other people while he's in the Army, then, yeah, he has a girlfriend. Technically, she's never broke up with him. Absence and other dicks make the heart grow fonder is the gist of her explanation and he could understand the merits of it. His parents have divorced and remarried each other. Who's to say it won't work out?

Not him. He's had a grand total of three girlfriends in his life. And he barely counts the first one since it's a third grade affair that lasts two days. One day for her to go around telling everyone they're together and the second for him to confess that he didn't like her. A punch in the stomach during recess line-up is his reward for being honest with his feelings.

“Right.” She shakes her head. “I meant hanging out. As friends. Not, you know, together. But with other people. In a public setting.”

“Mm.” It's a noncommittal sound, but she doesn't probe him further. He busies himself with setting up a new catheter and swabbing her arm again.

“You can bring her if you want,” she says.

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend.”

“She's not here.” He squeezes her forearm and she makes a high-pitched whine. “Don't scream,” he warns.

“Isshepretty?” Her booted feet tap hard and fast over the floor.

He doesn't answer, choosing to concentrate on her pulsing vein. Close. Closer. Almost there.

Specialist Kenobi, lunatic extraordinaire, begins to wail loud, displaying an incredible amount of lung capacity. He musters on, sliding the needle into her skin, despite her arm jerking up from the armrest.

“Fuck!” Solo grabs her wrist and pins it back down to the armrest. Dodges the swipe from her other hand. If she's ruined his work, so help him God, he's going to make her pay. “Looks good,” he sighs after checking the injection site, but he won't know until he gets the okay.

She whimpers, sucking in her bottom lip. “I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.”

“I do,” he replies, leaning forward and holding tight to her arm. He swirls his index finger in a tight circle near his ear. “You're crazy.”

If looks could kill, he'd be mildly injured. Witnessing her lose it over a needle diminishes the strength of her glare. He raises an eyebrow, taunting her.

“Asshole,” she mumbles.

“Specialist Kenobi.” The instructor returns with a commanding tone. “I will let Corporal Solo poke and prod you with that IV until the end of time if you don't calm your ass down.”

“I think I got it, sergeant,” Solo says, sitting up straight.

“Good work, corporal,” the instructor grins, assessing the placement of the needle. “And you did it with an uncooperative subject.” He spins away, projecting his voice to the rest of the class. “That's the test of a true professional. In real combat, it's not going to be easy. There will be screamers and fighters. You're there to save their life and if they're in shock, they might not be aware of it.” At the front of the room, he stands at parade rest. “Tomorrow is your written examination. Good luck. Dismissed.”

“I'm really sorry for the way I acted,” Kenobi says, scratching at her arm.

“Don't do that,” he chides and moves her hand to her lap. Cradling her needled arm between his hands, he looks at her. “If I pull this out, are you going to scream?”

“I don't mind the pulling out part, so much as the putting in.” Her eyes narrow at the smirk curling his lip. “Don't say it.”

“Didn't even cross my mind.”

“Men,” she huffs. “Always thinking with their pricks.”

“I've never had a woman not enjoy it before.” He slides the needle out quickly and covers the wound with gauze. Once she's taped up, he leans back, smiling.

“Maybe you weren't doing it right,” she says as she bends her arm at the elbow to keep the bandage in place.

“Why? You gonna give me pointers for next time?”

“Wait, wait,” she laughs. “Are we still talking about needles?”

“What else are we talking about?”

The instructor comes round again, berating them for staying after everyone has cleared the room. “If you ladies are done flirting, get the hell out. I've got another class to start.”

They get up from their chairs, holding in their laughter until they're outside. He thinks, as he walks her to her car, that she could be, possibly, a fun person to hang out with. Maybe help him forget about the girl back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written from memory as it supposed to be part of my other Army fic but it had been trashed. It took me three hours.
> 
> Combat Lifesaving class is no joke; a one week crash course in basic first aid. Triage, IV administering, CPR, proper carrying techniques. I got to carry around a fanny pack full of first aid supplies during field training. In the event of combat, I was to perform first aid and maintain calm before the real medics arrived. No morphine or anything fun though, because I wouldn't trust a bunch of low ranking soldiers with that stuff on a training exercise.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	10. small world, all her friends know me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no such thing as super secret.

It's been a long day of dealing with idiots.

MPs that turned away the two soldiers he'd sent down for fingerprints. Now he has to acquire a fingerprint stand and learn how to correctly take one. And of course the soldiers assume he's going to whip one out right there and then. Pull it out from his ass, like some fucking ass magician. He's too annoyed to make a better comparison.

The sergeant who refused to sign off on a specialist's speeding ticket. All he needed was a signature, not that hard, and he could send it off to CIF. Instead he's signing the stupid thing himself, as if he cared if the specialist retained their clearance. Speeding is low on the list of delinquent marks anyway.

The numerous applicants who came in insisting they needed a top secret clearance right fucking now. No, he didn't hand those out like badges. And yes, they're going to have to complete all thirty pages of the application.

Fuck. They'll need fingerprints.

He dropped his head on his desk and thumped it repeatedly on the surface. Maybe he could give himself a concussion and not have to come in tomorrow.

Corporal Solo was done with this day. Too bad he had another hour of it.

The rhythmic stomp of booted feet reached his ears and he sat up. His office door was closed. He hoped it was someone using the bathroom across the hall. Being at the end of the corridor was a blessing and a curse. He could always tell if they were heading his way by the variations in someone’s stride. Judging by the sound, they were definitely coming toward his office. This was not a bathroom emergency.

But he still eyed the panel of wood with all the sanctity of a priest in prayer.

_Please don't come in. Please don't come in. Please. Please._

“Wake up, Solo!” The First Sergeant boomed, slamming the office door open and stepping inside. “Time to do some work for a change.”

Fuck.

“Afternoon, First Sergeant,” he grinned. It didn't quite meet his eyes, but the man's never cared.

“Don't afternoon me, squirrelly,” he said with his own shit-eating grin. He turned to his side to allow a young female to slip by. “This is Specialist Kenobi. She's going to be our new armorer. You treat her like she's my daughter. If I find out you've misbehaved with her, they won't find your body.”

“Does that mean I won’t have to do this job anymore?”

“Nah,” First Sergeant droned. “I'll dig you up and prop your rotting corpse in that chair.”

“Awesome,” he deadpanned. “So what can I do for Specialist Kenobi?”

The female hadn't said a word during their exchange and she'd blushed at the sergeant's overprotective claims.

“Inprocessing.”

That's simple enough. Solo nodded and pulled out the appropriate paperwork. After securing them to a clipboard, he handed them to her. “Have a seat,” he gestured to the chairs behind her.

“All right, I'm off,” First Sergeant announced. “Say, do you know who's filling the whoopie lights with water?”

“No,” he coughed to hide a laugh. “Not at all.”

“Figures. Snoop around for me, squirrelly.” Just as he started to close the door, he peered back in. “Watch that smile on him, Kenobi. That's how he gets ya.”

She frowned but nodded, “Okay. Thank you.” She waited until she was sure he was gone, “Um. What was that about?”

Solo looked up from his filing and shrugged, “No clue. He's a little senile.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh, one step away from an old folks home, dribbling in his jello.”

She sat up straighter and huffed, “That's not very nice.”

“I'm not very nice.”

Her eyes narrowed but she returned her attention to the paperwork. A few minutes in, he glanced at her. He's surprised to see her head bowed down and one finger tracing each line of words. “You're not actually reading that, are you?”

“I like to know what I'm putting my name on,” she answered.

“It's a standard NDA,” he sputtered.

“I know,” she continued reading. “It's the same one I signed at my last duty station.”

“Well if it's the same one, then sign it.”

“What if you added something?”

“What?” He pushed his chair back, bewildered by her accusation. “Why would I do that?”

“You're really eager to get rid of me.”

“Yeah, you're cutting into my nap time.”

She laughed, “Funny.”

“Do you have any questions?” If he could speed things along, he may be able to get a few minutes of peace and quiet. After he locked the door, of course.

“Hmm,” she tapped the pen to her lips. He will go to his unmarked grave thinking this, but she had a really pretty mouth. Glossy too, as if there might have been a fresh swipe of her tongue. Or maybe it was chapstick. Berry flavored? He liked strawberries, which was coincidentally the color of her lips. “Yeah. I do.”

“Huh?” He replied dumbly. “Wh-what is it?”

“Do you know who's putting water in the whoopie lights?”

He stared at her.

She stared back, blinking innocently with long, dusty lashes.

He broke first, chuckling, “I won't tell you who, but I know why.”

“Ooh,” she crooned and perched at the edge of the chair. She propped her elbows up on her knees and rested her chin in the cradle of her hands. “Mystery and intrigue in the Headquarters Company.”

“If you say anything to First Sergeant, I'll deny it.”

“Cross my heart,” her index finger did just that, “I'll swear on this clipboard too.”

He laughed and waved off her dramatics. “It's a prank. For the newbies. Someone, not saying who, noticed that some of the whoopie lights have cracks in them and after it rains, they fill up with water.”

“I see,” she giggled. “They need to replenish the whoopie light fluid or it's getting low.”

“Exactly,” he smirked. “How'd you know?”

“I, well, we did something similar at my previous unit. Like telling the motor pool sergeant my, um, their HMMWV didn't work in the oh-eff-eff position.”

He had to think a moment, but then he smiled, “Funny.”

“I suppose I won't be falling for that trick.”

“Oh, he's got more up his sleeve.”

She tilted her head. “He?”

“Well, the brigade's ratio of male to female is skewed toward the latter. It stands to reason that it’s a guy.”

Her cute, upturned nose scrunched as she nodded. “Mmhm, sure.” 

He cleared his throat, “I've got to finish up my filing but, ah, you can stay a bit.” He flushed. “If you want.”

“Yeah,” her eyes widened, “I mean, I need to read this paperwork thoroughly and um, fill it out.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Kenobi slid back in her chair and bent over the clipboard, studiously reading the boring jargon like her life depended on it.

Solo ducked down and opened the bottom drawer. He grabbed a stack of files, and with the slightest tinge of regret, plopped them messily on his desk. He kept his focus on rearranging the papers. Shuffling and stacking them into piles that were to an untrained eye, disorganized.

He rolled his eyes. He was about as subtle as a fireworks display. He'll have to refile all this tomorrow. He hated unnecessary busy work. Yet here he was, pretending to be productive to keep himself from observing her. He should just give in and indulge to his heart’s content. She was a very pretty girl; far more striking than any female that's come into his office. Peering at her through his lashes, he discovered she was staring at him. He kept his head down to hide his smile. “Did you have another question?”

“Oh!” She jumped in her seat. “No. Well. Why are you behind a desk and not doing, you know, cool stuff?”

He lifted his head and frowned, “Cool stuff?”

“Like stealing super secret documents and karate chopping the bad guys.”

He knew that he had an idiotic expression on his face, but he couldn't stop himself from looking flabbergasted. “Super secret? Karate chopping?”

“Do you know karate?”

“No, but my dad taught me how to box.” Really, that's an exaggeration. His dad's taught him how to go for the element of surprise, which could be a quick jab to an opponent's soft spots. “I don't steal super secret documents. One, there's no such thing as super secret. And two, they're usually not that interesting.”

“You've read classified documents?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me anything?”

He smirked, “If I do, I'd have to kill you.”

“No!” When he nodded, she gasped. “Really?”

“Well, no, because I wouldn't tell you anything.”

“But you said they weren't interesting.”

“Just because they're not, doesn't mean I'm gonna give you classified military information.”

“I have clearance,” she pleaded. “Secret, I think.”

“In that case, let me show you to our vault,” he said with a snort.

“You have a vault?!” Her eyes brightened. “Here? In this building? Can I see that? I'm really fascinated by safes and vaults.”

That couldn't hurt. Solo checked the clock on his computer. Nearly time to pack it up. “Sure,” he said, fishing his cap out of a drawer and slapping it against his thigh as he stood up. “Finish signing those papers—”

“I signed them ages ago,” she grinned and handed him the clipboard.

“Right.” He didn't know what to say to that. The very idea that she stayed in his company for any reason caused him to blush. He set the papers on his desk to deal with tomorrow. “Um. Okay. Follow me.”

Kenobi chattered about the Teikou Bank vault that survived the blast on Hiroshima as they walked down the hall toward the Brigade Command entrance. The exterior had been scorched but the interior remained pristine. He nodded and hummed in the appropriate parts when her conversation shifted to Fort Knox.

“Four foot thick walls reinforced by seven-hundred-fifty tons of steel. Can you imagine trying to get through that?”

“No.”

“I can't either!” She smacked his arm in her enthusiasm. “And then you have to contend with opening the vault itself, which only a few know the combination. And even then, they don't know all of it. Just a portion.”

“Like the Coca Cola formula?”

“That's a myth,” she giggled. “Company advertising at its finest.”

“Still,” he replied. “No one knows the recipe.”

He stopped at the end and gestured to the non-descript brown wall. “There it is.”

“Oh!” She stepped closer, one hand stroking the surface of the vault door. “I thought this was a bunker.”

“I think it used to be, but we upgraded some things.”

“Magnetic-coded lock,” she mused, bending to look over the readout. “When you spin it—”

“The kinetic energy transfers over to the screen so you can see the numbers.”

“What's inside?”

“Secrets,” he laughed. “There's a desk. A shredder that grinds up papers to dust practically. More safes. File cabinets. And a briefcase.”

“For what?”

“Stealing super secret documents,” he smirked. “It's just for transport. We give briefings to our major once a week for practice in a realistic setting. So we use real intel gathered by various sources. It has to get dumbed down to secret though. You can't walk out of the intelligence facility with top secret information.”

“How do you dumb it down?”

“Take out some details.”

“Do you have handcuffs?”

He can blame the surprising question for the squeak in his voice, “What?”

Kenobi rolled her eyes. “To secure the briefcase to your wrist, perv.”

“I wasn't…” He pressed his lips together. He'd be lying if he said his mind didn't go there. Because it did go there. And frolic for a second. A long second. He might still be thinking about it. “No handcuffs.”

She winked, “Shame.”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.” She turned to the entrance. “Do you know where the mess hall is?”

“The First Sergeant didn't show you?” It was one of the few things shown to the newbies. Strange that the man didn't bother with an important detail like that.

“No.”

The twinkle in her eyes said otherwise, but he shrugged and held the door open. “I'll drive you there.”

“Thanks,” she grinned. “Maybe after, you can show me to your barracks. I might be able to convince you to tell me all your super dirty secrets.”

“That's gonna take a while,” he says, fighting a full blown smile. “I'm pretty hard to convince.”

Not missing a beat, she replied, “I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who tells you that that they have a clearance above top secret is a liar. That is the highest classification in the intelligence community. But need to know does take precedence. Clearances have to be renewed depending on their level. In the military, any delinquent marks against your record puts your clearance in review. If you have a secret clearance, you can very nearly get away with anything (below a felony is okay, though some misdemeanors may jeopardize your standing) and still maintain it. Top secret, however, your record must be spotless.
> 
> Here's a word to the wise, your references listed in your application to get clearance is important. Make sure you put down people who will say good things about you. No jokesters either. The personnel who come out to interview your references have heard it all before and sometimes those interviews are key in determining whether you will get clearance.


	11. baby, I'm preying on you tonight...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby, I'm preying on you tonight  
> Hunt you down, eat you alive  
> Just like animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the cancelled Cousin Ben Week, so be forewarned. Read at your own risk.

“Ben?”

“Hmm?” He groaned from underneath his pillow. “What,” a yawn escaped his lips, “is it, Rey?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Oh.” He made a half-hearted attempt to sit up.

He didn't realize he fell back asleep until Rey touched him lightly on his leg. “Ben.”

“Sorry,” he yawned and rubbed his eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Uh-uh.”

The bedside lamp snapping on has him hissing and shying away from the sudden light. “Shit, a little warning, Rey,” he groused, grumpy from being woken up and blinded.

“Can I sleep here?” She asked, her voice soft.

Blinking his eyes open, he wished he'd kept them closed. But then he'd miss the way the curtain of her hair framed her face and draped over her shoulders. The way the Starkiller shirt he'd given her to sleep in cut across her thighs. The way she bit her lip and wrung the hem in her hands, a tantalizing peek of her panties as her nervousness and the shirt rose with each second that passed by.

May Uncle Luke strike him dead. Forget that. Uncle Luke wouldn’t hesitate to kill him for the lascivious thoughts that were currently running wild in his head.

He shouldn't have let her spend the night. But Luke was out of town and her loft was big and lonely and not in the best of neighborhoods. He couldn't possibly turn her away when she showed up at his apartment, scared to be by herself, in the middle of the night.

“Maybe I should go back to the couch,” she said, taking a step away from his bed. “Sorry I woke you.”

“No,” he grabbed her hand. “I, uh, it's all right. I'm a little groggy still.” He sat up and pulled her to sit next him. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“It was a really bad dream,” She said, worrying her bottom lip. Tears glistened on her lashes. “You weren't there a-and I kept looking for you.”

His family's never been this close. Uncle Luke had deuced off to backpack through Europe when Ben was very young. Ben's own mom and dad spent more time away from each other than together. When a postcard from Uncle Luke came in mail saying he was returning, he never mentioned he was bringing anyone with him. Let alone a daughter. A very grown up and beautiful daughter.

She connected with Ben easily, happy to meet other members of the family that she'd heard so much about. And Ben was excited to not be the only child for once. He felt complete with her around.

“Sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. That was safe. Like the ones his dad gave his mom. Probably a bad analogy, considering how he felt for his sweet little cousin. But he could pass it off as a familial feeling. “Baby girl. I would never leave you.”

She smiled, bright and sweet.

He was treading dangerous waters. The hand on her shoulder dropped down to stroke her arm and he had yet to pull away. His fingers brushed at the swell of her breast. He felt her gasp at the pet name and at his touch. Things not familial at all.

He wanted to take care of her and that wasn't inherently bad. Was it? She wouldn't want for anything if she stayed with him. He'd worship and treasure her. His sweet, darling, beautiful Rey.

“Is it okay if I sleep here?” She asked, full pout on her reddened lips. “I promise I won't kick you or move around too much.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling back before he did anything more inappropriate. “That's fine. It's getting late.” He didn't know what that had to do with her sleeping on the couch or his bed, but she grinned all the same.

“Thank you, Benny Bear,” she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

Ben patted her on the back. It's the safest place he could think of to touch her. Even though her knee wedged between his legs, dangerously close to his crotch.

An image of a furious Uncle Luke kept his libido in check. Barely. The drag of her knee as she moved to lie on his bed made his cock twitch. Rey smiled up at him when he twisted to look at her, bemused expression on his face. “Comfy?”

“Mmhm.” She spread her arms out languorously and arched her back before curling on her side. “Night.”

“Night.” He turned off the light and sat in the dark for a minute, listening to her even breaths.

\---

He didn't know what woke him up first: her whimpers or her elbow to his stomach.

He had laid on his back next to her, but somehow during the night, he'd rolled over and curled up behind her. An arm wrapped around her middle and his nose pressed into the nape of her neck. Chest to back. Crotch to ass.

He can't be blamed for the erection nestling between the cheeks of her ass. Any stimulation could get that part of his anatomy to rise. And she was bumping her very firm rear steadily against it. Certainly not his fault. He doubted Uncle Luke would see it that way, but he wasn't here to judge him for it.

Another bad dream, he thought, when she made a noise of desperation. Her legs shifted and her arm brushed against the top of his hand.

He pulled her closer, hoping that just the feeling of him being there would calm her nightmare. She stilled and sighed.

He almost drifted away until she started moving again. He was going to wake her up this time, ease her out of the dream. The musky scent of arousal stopped him.

Rey gasped and it wasn't an ordinary intake of breath. He'd know. He's had enough sex to recognize a sound made when he was doing things right. Except he wasn't doing anything to her.

Fuck.

She was masturbating. Pleasuring herself. Stroking her clit and stuffing her small fingers inside her tight, pretty cunt. Not that he'd know what that's like, but he could imagine.

Her very wet cunt if he listened hard enough.

He wasn't.

Fuck.

That's a lie.

He was listening intently instead of being…

Offended? Angry?

He's sure he shouldn't have any feelings about what she's doing at all. It's normal. To rub one out once in a while. He's done it with no thought behind it. Well, there was that one time he pictured his dear, sweet cousin on her knees, lips wrapped around his cock, and he came so hard that he had to lay there, panting, for a minute or two. His stomach and hand covered in cum.

He's only thought of her a few times after that. Not on her knees, of course. It's not that the fantasy was boring and oh, fuck, why was he even getting harder right now?

She moaned in frustration. Kicked her feet and cursed softly. Her wrist must be getting tired.

Back to his cousin masturbating. Because he shouldn't just lie here quietly while she worked herself up. And he couldn't say something that would embarrass her.

She might stop. Which would make her more frustrated.

“Mm, almost there,” she panted. “Please, please.”

Rey needed him.

Wait.

He should remove himself from the situation. Mentally, not physically. Bolting from the bed like it was on fire would make her stop and then she'd get embarrassed. Then he'd get embarrassed. Then things would get awkward at family picnics. As if this wasn't awkward enough. It's better to keep things on his end. He'll never be able to look her straight in the eyes, but she wouldn't have to know why.

So.

That's not his hand inching down at a snail's pace over the soft curve of her abdomen. That's not his lips pressing into sensitive skin of where her neck meets her shoulder. That's definitely not his hips grinding against her backside, seeking to relieve some pressure.

Rey paused and whispered his name.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

He panicked and let out a snore. Mumbled something incoherent and sleepy. And held his breath.

“Are you awake?”

He remained quiet.

She wiggled her ass and he had to suppress a groan. If he didn't start breathing soon, he was going to die. An exaggeration, but his lungs were screaming for air. He exhaled and inhaled slowly through his mouth, his breath ghosting over her skin.

She shivered. Arched her back. The movement caused his fingers to slide lower to the waistband of her underwear. Or maybe he used it as cover. She'd never know. He was snoring behind her, blissfully oblivious, after all. Her hand slipped out of her panties. He heard the crack of her knuckles and then her hand dove back in. Slick fingers skated past his.

“Oh.”

She bucked her hips. He was reckless for meeting her plush bottom, push for thrust. She didn't notice anyway, wanton in her pursuit of climax. It's why he became brave enough to slide his hand under hers. He could feel her fingers strumming and pinching her clit almost viciously. Her panties were drenched in arousal. The scent so strong he could taste it. She invaded his every sense. He applied a tiny bit of pressure to tilt her pelvis back.

“Fuck! Right there,” she panted.

He was just as close as she was now, rubbing and grinding his dick mindlessly against her ass.

“Oh god,” she chanted over and over again. Her back bowed and that was enough.

He snapped his hips forward and bit down on her shoulder to muffle a hoarse shout of gratification. Hot spurts of cum spread out across the crotch of his pants and soaked her panties from behind.

Rey twitched and moaned in her aftershocks, fingers gently massaging her nub before she sagged.

What has he done? Using her for his own selfish needs.

Ben rolled on his back, breathing heavily through his nose. “I'm sorry,” he croaked. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Rey, his sweet girl, giggled and turned over. She stretched an arm across his chest, squeezed him tight, and kissed his cheek. “I think it was your dick. But that's just a guess.”

He couldn't help the laugh. Leave it to her to find a way to pull him from his self-deprecation. “Good guess.”

She kissed him again, on his lips, tongue flicking out to tease the seam of his mouth. “I don't know about you, but I can't sleep in messy underwear,” she said as she straddled his hips.

He didn't get a chance to say or do anything to her. She was up and over and standing on the floor before he could get used to her sitting on him. She padded over to the bathroom and flicked the light on. Silhouetted by the door frame, she looked gorgeous with mussed hair and a come hither expression over her shoulder. “Shower with me?”

He sat up. “You want to me to shower with you?”

“No, Ben,” she turned and laughed. “Your pants. They're gross.”

He fairly leapt off the bed and stalked toward her. She grinned, backing up further into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

“Oh, you are a mess,” a giggle echoed, “Let's get you cleaned up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [Foxesdance](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxesDance/pseuds/FoxesDance). Without her encouragement and input, this fic would be more half-assed than it already is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> I'm not much of a Star Wars fan, but I love good movies regardless of their content.
> 
> Drafted on my cell's notepad. Forgive the errors.


End file.
